" 



/• 





















Rudimentary Psychology 



SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES 



G. M. STEELE, LL.D., 

PRINCIPAL OF WESLEYAN ACADEMY, WILBRAHAM, MASS. 








LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, 

BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 



PREFACE. 



HHHIS WORK is designed for students in academies, 
high schools, and collegiate institutions. The writer, 
during many years' experience as a teacher in a seminary 
in which Psychology has been one of his principal branches, 
has found no suitable text-book, though he has sought 
it diligently, and has examined many volumes. The 
experience of other instructors, as reported to him, is the 
same. Whatever faults may exist in this presentation — 
and it would be strange if there were not some — it is, at 
least, very nearly what the writer would desire for his own 
classes. 

It is what its title designates it, Rudimentary Psy- 
chology. There is very little effort at original discussion 
or speculation. It is an attempt to present in a clear and 
easily apprehensible form, with due regard both to scien- 
tific requirements and to the consensus of the best and 
most recent authorities, the main facts of Psychology. 
The more abstruse parts of the study have been omitted. 
Unnecessary technical terms, and such as are difficult to 
understand, have been avoided, and simple language has 
been used wherever it did not involve too much circum- 



vi PREFACE. 

locution. At the same time there is no affected juvenility 
of expression. 

The writer has drawn freely upon the best authorities, 
but he has written very little which has not been through 
the crucible of his own mind. Among the authors made 
use of, Dr. Hopkins is the most prominent, and his views 
have been largely, but not wholly, adopted. Dr. Porter, 
Dr. Hickok, Sir William Hamilton, Reid, Stewart, Flem- 
ing, McCosh, and many minor writers have been freely 
consulted. 

In the arrangement of topics the logical method has not 
been wholly followed, but rather the order in which the 
different phenomena present themselves to the mind. 
There are some faculties and powers of the soul upon 
which others are conditioned, and which, for that reason, 
might seem to demand prior consideration, but which are 
more subtle and abstruse, and less easily understood, 
than the others, and therefore were better deferred for 
later explanation and elucidation. Concrete illustrations 
have been used so far as the limits of the work would 
permit, as the writer has learned by experience that 
abstract science without such instances is, to young stu- 
dents at least, of little value. 

The work is intended for a one-term study, with daily 
recitations. This will afford ample opportunity for special 
instruction, and for amplification on particular points. 

A knowledge of one's self is of the first importance 
from the beginning to the end of education ; and a knowl- 
edge of one's self is essentially a knowledge of the powers 



PREFACE. vii 

and operations of the soul. That even a high school or 
academic education should conclude without a certain 
degree of such knowledge, would be a misfortune. At 
present our schools are seriously lacking in facilities for 
this study. Whether this attempt to increase these facili- 
ties will be successful, is yet to be determined. 

The author desires to acknowledge his indebtedness to 
Miss Louise M. Hodgkins, professor of English literature 
in Wellesley College, for the examination of manuscript, 
and to Professor Benjamin Gill, of Wesleyan Academy, 
for reading the proof-sheets, and to both for valuable 

suggestions. 

GEO. M. STEELE. 

WlLBRAHAM, MASS., 

January, 1890. 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

PAGE 

Psychology defined. — Psychology a Science. — Meaning of Science. — 
Distinguished from Philosophy. — Phenomena to be studied first. — 
Meaning of Phenomena. — Classification. — Psychical Phenomena 
observed by the Inner-Sense. — Materialism; its Main Arguments. 
— Counter Arguments. —As much known about the Soul as about 
the Body. — The Two Sets of Phenomena radically Different. — The 
Soul distinguishes itself from Matter. — Laws of Matter and of 
Mind Incompatible. — The Soul Self-active. — Why we seem to 
know more about Matter than Mind. — Relation of the Soul to the 
Body. — Law of Conditioning and Conditioned. — Members of the 
Body Instruments of the Soul. — Life and Organization. — Sensation 
a Condition for Psychical Activity. — Three Forms of Psychical Phe- 
nomena. — Not a Partitive Division 1 



DIVISION FIRST. 

THE INTELLECT. 

PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 

GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT : DEFINITIONS. 

What is Knowledge ? — Certainty ? — Knowledge differs from Truth. 
— Three Terms implied in Knowledge. — Not the Sole Function of 
the Intellect to know. — Definitions of Substance, Quality, Attribute, 
Property. — Classes of Qualities. —Subject and Object. — Mind 
sometimes both Subject and Object. — Power, Faculty, Capacity. — 
Division of Intellectual Phenomena 



x CONTENTS. 

PART I. 

THE PEESENTATIVE FACULTIES. 

CHAPTER I. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

PAGE 

Presentative Faculties described. —How can the Soul come into Com- 
munication with the External World ? — The Senses. — The Senso- 
rium. — Sensation a State of Mind. — Perception. — Sensation and 
Perception defined. — Sensation Subjective, Perception Objective, 19 

CHAPTER II. 

HOAV WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH THE OUTER WORLD. 

Not directly through one or more of the Senses. — Sense of Smell. — 
No Intimation of Externality. — Taste not Separable wholly from 
Touch. — A Purely Mental State. — Hearing ; Nothing External 
cognized. — Sight ; Sense of Color. — The Knowledge Subjective. 
— Touch; Something besides Tactual Effect. — Pressure. — Knowl- 
edge of Externality not through Sense alone. — Through Resistance 
in connection with Touch. — Sensations Signs of External Objects, 22 

CHAPTER III. 

ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 

Each Sense a Borrower from the Other. — Distance and Weight esti- 
mated by the Eye. — Also Certain States of the Mind. — Manifold 
Increase of Knowledge by this means. — Acquired Perception some- 
times Deceptive, but Original Perceptions are not; Instances. — In 
the Destruction of One Sense the Others rendered more Acute. — 
Sight supplying Place of Hearing ; and Hearing and Touch, of Sight, 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

NATURE OF KNOWLEDGE ACQUIRED BY SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

Of Individuals and not of Classes. — What do we perceive? — Quali- 
ties and not Substances. — Perception only One of the Elements of 
Knowledge. — Primary and Secondary Qualities of Matter. — Hamil- 
ton's Division of Qualities into Primary, Secundo-Primary, and 
Secondary 33 



CONTENTS. xi 

CHAPTER V. 

ATTENTION. 

PAGE 

The Mind Active and not merely Passive. — Meaning of Attention. — 
Seeming Inattention not always Actual. — Difference in Degrees of 
Attention. —Difficulty of fixing Attention. — Exceptional Intensity. 
— Can the Mind attend to more than One Thing at a time ? — 
Hamilton's Views. — Judgment and Comparison make Simultaneity 
Necessary. — How Many Things can the Mind attend to at once ? — 
Intensity Inversely as the Number. — Remarkable Instances. — At- 
tention and the Will. — Hamilton's Three Degrees of Attention. — 
Reflection as distinguished from Attention 37 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE INNER-SENSE. 

External and Internal Phenomena. — How we know the Latter. — The 
Name of This Faculty. — Not properly " Consciousness." — Not 
" Self-Consciousness." — " Internal Perception." — " Inner-Sense " 
the least objectionable. — Its High Authority. — Sole Reliance in 
the Study of Psychology. — Relation to Attention. — Does it take 
Cognizance of all our Mental States ? — Facts bearing in Both Direc- 
tions. — Reasons for believing that the Inner-Sense sometimes cog- 
nizes what it does not particularly notice. — States of Mind not cog- 
nized by the Inner Sense 43 

CHAPTER VII. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Two Different Uses of the Term. — Three Characteristics of Conscious- 
ness. — Formula of Consciousness in the Narrower Sense. — Objec- 
tion to this. — Hamilton's Doctrine of Consciousness. — The Real 
Significance of Consciousness. — Dr. Hopkins's Definition. — The 
Proper Formula. — Physical Analogy. — Not under Control of the 
Will 48 



xii CONTENTS. 

PART II. 

THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY. 
CHAPTER I. 

THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY DESCRIBED. 

PAGE 

Recurrent Ideas and Cognitions. — Dr. Porter's Definition. — A Power 
of the Mind itself. — Dr. Hopkins's " Mental Current." —The Re- 
current States cannot he excluded. — Subject to Laws 55 

CHAPTER II. 

LAWS OF ASSOCIATION 

Dr. Hickok's Statement and Illustration. — Definition by Isaac 
Taylor. — " Suggestion." — Two Classes of Laws. — Primary Laws: 
Place, Time, Resemblance, Contrast, Cause and Effect, Means and 
End. — These Principles sufficient to account for all the Phe- 
nomena. — May be placed in three Groups. -- Attempt to reduce to 
One Principle, not successful. — Secondary Principles of Associa- 
tion: Vividness, Recency, Repetition, Mental Peculiarities, At- 
tention. — Causes of Suggestion not always Traceable. — These 
Principles all Natural Laws. — How far, and in what Manner, the 
Soul can influence the Order of Representation. — No Direct In- 
fluence. — Can give Attention to One rather than to Another Presen- 
tation. — Discipline Necessary to do this effectually 57 

CHAPTER III. 

FORMS WHICH THE REPRESENTATIVE PRODUCT ASSUMES. 

Three Forms. — Fantasy defined. — Distinguished from Memory and 
Imagination. — Spontaneous. — Fancy and Fantasy. — Memory : the 
Mind's Power to retain Cognitions and other States once experi- 
enced. — Two Functions of Memory. — Two Kinds of Reproduction. 
Spontaneous and Voluntary. — How the Latter operates. — Recol- 
lection. — Importance of Memory. — Essential to All Operations of 



CONTENTS. xin 

PAGE 

the Intellect. — Varieties of Memory. — Instances. — Circumstantial 
Memory. — Logical Memory. — Verbal Memory. — Difference in the 
Power of Memory. — Extraordinary Instances. — Powerful Memory 
not Incompatible with Great Intellectuality. — Instances. — Cultiva- 
tion of the Memory. — Mnemonic Systems. — Rules for Improve- 
ment of Memory. — Trusting the Memory. — Careful Attention. 

— Imperfect Reading. — Association. — System and Order. — Re- 
lation to Writing and Extemporaneous Speaking. — Imagination: 
Definition. — Differs from Generalization, Conception, Fantasy, 
and Memory. — A Creative, not a mere Image-making Power. 

— Two Grades, Recombination and Original Construction. — Illus- 
trations. — Originality. — Office in Mechanical Invention. — In- 
vention of a Machine. — Exists first in the Mind; Imagination 
mainly involved. — Something more than Recombination. — Crea- 
tive not in the Extreme Sense but in the Ordinary. — Difference 
between Imagination and Invention 68 



CHAPTER IV. 

RELATION OF THE IMAGINATION TO SOME OTHER FACULTIES. 

As related to Memory. — To Judgment. — To Reasoning. — To Taste. 
— Active and Passive Imagination. — A Real Distinction .... 82 

CHAPTER V. 

UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 

Often regarded as merely Ornamental. — Use and Beauty not antago- 
nistic. — Useful to Writers and Speakers. — Essential to Vivid 
Description. — Essential in Invention. — In Enterprise and Affairs; 
Napoleon. — Connection with Science. — Ideals and Character . . 85 

CHAPTER VI. 

CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 

Strengthened by Use and impaired by Disuse. — Physical Analogy. — 
Study of Great Masters. — Study of Nature. — Illustrations .... 89 



xiv CONTENTS. 

PART III. 

THE ELABORATIVE FACULTY. 
CHAPTER I. 

THOUGHT AND THINKING. 

PAGE 

Previous Presentations. — Individuals, not Classes. — Intuitive as dis- 
tinguished from Elaborative. — Thought and Thinking. — Restric- 
tion of " Thought " to Discursive Operations. — The Different Classes 
of Phenomena. — Efficiency and Importance of Thought. — Illustra- 
tive Instance 95 

CHAPTER II. 

CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 

Double Meaning of " Conception." — Conception, the Power and Pro- 
cess; Concept, the Product. — Several Distinct Operations. — Not 
always conscious of the Process of Cognition, still there is 
a Process. — First Process that of Analysis. — Abstraction, Com- 
parison, Generalization, Denomination. — Formation thus of a 
Class or Concept. — Concept of a Quality, or of a Class. — Con- 
cept denned. — Individuals in same Concept differ, and yet are 
alike. — Higher and Lower Concepts. — Classes of Classes. — Going 
from the Individual to the Summum Genus, the Number of Objects 
increases, and the Number of Qualities decreases, and vice versa. — 
The Two Wholes of Extension and Intension. — Summum Genus 
and Infima Species. — The Individual physically, but not logically 
divisible. — Absolute Summum Genus. — Importance of Accurate 
Conceptions. — The Three Great Virtues of Conception. — Clear- 
ness, Distinctness, Adequateness. — Division and Definition. — 
Office of Each. — Rules for Division. — 1. Must proceed from Genera 
to Species. — 2. One Fundamental Principle. —3. Mutually Exclu- 
sive. — 4. Sum of Parts equal to Whole. — 5. Not by Negatives. — 
Logical and Physical Division. — Importance of Division. — Rules 
for Definition. — 1. By Essential Marks. Species = Genus + 
Specific Difference. — 2. Definition should not include the Name of 
the Thing to be defined. — 3. Must include all the Objects to be 
defined and Nothing more. — 4. Must not be by Negatives. — 5. Free 
from Surplus Words 99 



CONTENTS. XV 

CHAPTER III, 

JUDGMENT. 

PAGE 

Definition. —Judgments and Propositions. — Predicate and Subject.— 
Analysis of a Judgment. — Judgments Classified. — Quantities, Uni- 
versal, Particular, and Singular. — Distributed Terms. — Qualities, 
Affirmative and Negative. — Four Kinds of Judgments. —Dis- 
tributed Predicate. — Judgments, Categorical and Hypothetical. — 
Hypothetical Judgments as Conditional, Disjunctive, and Dilem- 
rnatic. — Problematic, Assertory, and Apodictic Judgments. — Judg- 
ment the Essential Factor in all Thought. — Primitive Judgment. 
— All real Thinking is essentially Judging. — A Perpetual Mental 
Operation. — Hamilton on the Functions of Judgment 114 



CHAPTER IV. 

REASONING AND INFERENCE. 

Definition of Reasoning. — Basis in the Nature of Things. — Deductive 
and Inductive. — Difference between Reasoning and Inference. — 
Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning. — Inference, Immediate and 
Mediate. — Several Forms of Immediate Reasoning. — Opposition. — 
Contrary, Sub-contrary, Subaltern, and Contradictory Opposition. — 
Value of this Means of Inference. — Conversion: Definition. — Rule 
for Conversion. — Different Kinds of Conversion. — Utility of this 
Kind of Inference. — Mediate Inference. — Three Judgments in- 
volved, but related. — Arguments. — The Syllogism. — Analysis of it. 
— Function of the Middle Term. —Aristotelian Dictum; Hamilton's 
Maxim. — Dr. Hopkins's Objection to these. — Necessity of begin- 
ni ig with Propositions on which All are agreed. — Different Kinds of 
Syllogisms. — Categorical and Hypothetical. — Conditional Syllo- 
gisms. — Rules. — The Disjunctive Syllogism. — Its Principle. — 
Modus Tollendo Ponens. — Modus Ponendo Tollens. — Dilemmatic 
Syllogisms. — Three Forms. — Famous Dilemma of Demosthenes 
against iEschines 122 



xvi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

INDUCTION. 

PAGE 

How to ascertain the Facts from which to reason. — Meaning of Induc- 
tion. — Absolute Certainty not Attainable. — Fair Presumptions 
furnished. — Two Determining Principles. — 1. Enumeration of All 
Particulars. — Nothing gained by this. — 2. Principle of a Common 
Cause. — The Underlying Axiom. — Uniformity of Nature not an 
Axiom, but Uniformity of Causation is. — Can Induction be brought 
under tbe Form of the Syllogism ? — Difference of Opinion. — Exact 
Induction not much used. — Great Practical Value of General In- 
duction. — Dr. Porter's Illustration. — Analogy and Experience. — 
Meaning of Analogy. — Its Use. — How Experience differs from 
Analogy. — Induction among the Uneducated. — Achievements of 
Scientific Induction. — Illustration 138 

CHAPTER VI. 

DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. 

Difference between them. — The Term "Probable" misleading.— 
Practical Certainty. — Three Kinds of Evidence. — Testimony. — 
Probahle in Itself. — Substantia] Agreement of Witnesses. — Limita- 
tion. — Things to be taken into Account. — Absurdity of rejecting 
Testimony where no Defects exist. — Circumstantial Evidence. — 
Its Nature. — Dr. Wayland's Three Rules. — Application to a Con- 
crete Case 146 

PAKT IV. 

THE REGULATIVE FACULTY. 

CHAPTER I. 

NATURE OF THE REGULATIVE COGNITIONS. 

Explanation of Terms. — Why not considered Earlier. —These Cogni- 
tions not through any of the Powers previously described. — Three 
Characteristics. — Origin of the Idea of " Substance." — Known as 
certainly as Qualities. — Not an Inference. — An Immediate and 
Necessary Cognition is Essential to all other Knowledge 155 



CONTENTS. xvn 

CHAPTER II. 

THE FACULTY WHICH FURNISHES THESE COGNITIONS. 

PAGE 

No Agreement as to the Name. — " Regulative Faculty."— " Intui- 
tion." — Objection. — Objection to " Reason." — " The Common 
Sense" — General Names of the Cognitions. — Logically First in 
Order but Last to be Apprehended 159 

CHAPTER III. 

PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 

Being or Existence. — Space. — Space Subjective or Objective? — 
Time: Origin of this Notion. — Personal Identity. — Its Origin and 
Nature. — Number.— Resemblance : Basis of All Classification and 
All Science. — The Infinite : not a Necessary Idea. — Possible Origin. 
— Substance and Motion. — By Some regarded as Necessary, by 
Others as not. — Motion as given by Perception. — Other Necessary 
Ideas. — Truths as distinguished from Ideas. — First Truths. — 
Characteristics. — Distinguishing Marks of these Ideas and Truths . 161 



DIVISION SECOND. 

THE SENSIBILITIES. 

CHAPTER I. 

GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE SENSIBILITIES, AND THEIR 
RELATION TO THE INTELLECT. 

«• 

Tri-partite Division of the Soul. — Function of the Sensibilities. — Sen- 
sation and the Sensibilities. — Relation of Sensibilities to the In- 
tellect. — Some Form of Good radical in All Products of the 
Sensibilities. — Evil and Good. — Different Meanings of Good. — 
Divisions of the Sensibilities 171 



xviii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE EMOTIONS. 

PAGE 

Emotion used in Two Senses. — Definition.— Beauty. — Its Double 
Sense. — Subjective and Objective. — 2s ot confined to Material 
Objects. — Not to be confounded with Utility. — Deformity. — Is 
there a Standard of Beauty ? — Differences resulting from Differ- 
ences of Culture. — Grandeur and Sublimity. — Akin to Beauty. — 
More Powerful Emotions than Beauty. —Hamilton's Three Forms 
of Sublimity. —Moral Sublimity. — The Ludicrous. —Not Easily 
defined. — Its Occasions. — Incongruity a Prominent Element. — 
Wit. —Its Meaning formerly Wider than now.— Higher Form of 
the Ludicrous. — Dr. Barrow's Description. — Burnett. — Dr. Up- 
ham. — Burlesque. — Hudibras. — Irving. — Difference between Wit 
and Humor. —The Ludicrous dots not imply Contempt. — Utility 
of the Ludicrous. — Liable to Abuse. — Its Benefits. —Danger of 
Sarcasm . . 174 



CHAPTER III. 

THE EMOTIONS - CONTINUED. 

Good as a Product to be reckoned among the Necessary Ideas. — So 
also of Beauty and the Ludicrous. — Difficulty about the Name of 
this Power. — " Affective Reason."— The Self-regarding Emotions. 
Cheerfulness. -^Partly a Matter of Temperament. — Its Higher 
Forms. — Dejection. — Sorrow ; not the Same as Dejection. — 
Self-Respect. — How it differs from Self-Love. — From Self-Esteem. 

— Self-Complacency. — Self-Satisf action. — Self-Sufficiency. — All 
These have their Normal Spheres. — Pride defined. —Distinguished 
from Vanity. — Egotism. — The Opposite Emotions. — Displeasure. 
Disgust. — Indignation. — Surprise. — Astonishment. — Wonder. — 
How These differ. — Their Utility. —Reverence. — Hope and Fear. 

— Matter of Doubt. —Meaning of Hope. — Its Utility. — Double 
Meaning of Fear. — Not the Exact Opposite of Hope. —Alarm. — 
Terror. — Horror 185 



CONTENTS. xix 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 

PAGE 

Relation to Ethics. — Determination of Right and Wrong. — Occasions 
of Moral Emotions. — Three Cases. —1. Obligation, Judgment, Con- 
science—Limited Function of Conscience; a Simple Impulsive 
Faculty. — 2. Approval and Disapproval of Our Own Acts. — 3. Ap- 
proval and Disapproval of Acts of Others. —Repentance and Peni- 
tence. — Contrition, Compunction, and Remorse. — Faith .... 193 



CHAPTER V. 

THE APPETITES. 

How Appetites and Desires differ from Emotions. — What Appetites 
and Desires have in Common. — Appetites defined. — Have their 
Causes in the Body. — Periodicity. — Kinds. — Object. — Self-limit- 
ing. — Possible Abuse. — Artificial Appetites. — Narcotics. — Alco- 
hol. — Normal becoming Abnormal. — Instincts. — Definition. — Not 
without Design. —Intelligence, but not of the Subjects. — Incapable 
of Improvement. — Human Instincts. — Inverse Ratio of Instinct 
and Intelligence. — Instincts of Children. — Men do Certain Things 
entirely by Instinct 197 

CHAPTER VI. 
THE DESIRES. 

Definition. — Different Kinds. — Continued Existence ; Instinctive and 
Voluntary. —Desire of Property. — Design of this Desire. —Curi- 
osity. — Its Universality; its Utility. — Desire of Power. — Nor- 
mal, but may be abused. — Ambition. — Desire of Esteem. — A 
Proper Desire. — Not necessarily Selfish. — Limitations. —Vanity. 

— Society, Liberty, and Happiness. — Doubtful if to be classed here. 

— No Man Sufficient to Himself. — Society a Condition Men are 
born into. — The Desire of Happiness, or of Good : the Same as 
Self-Love. — Differs from Other Desires in that it depends on them 
for Gratification ; does not lie Proximate to the Will. — Self-Love 
and Selfishness. — Desire of Liberty : Relation to Other Desires. — 

A Simple Definition 204 



XX CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 

PAGE 

How Affections differ from Desires. — Characteristic Element. — 
Aversion. — Classification as Benevolent and Malevolent objected 
to. — Beneficent and Defensive or Punitive. — Affections purely- 
Personal. — Love of Kindred. — Earliest and most Primitive.— 
Parental Love. — Mainly Instinctive. — But the Subject of Culture. 

— Its Utility. — Filial Love. — An Implanted and Abiding Princi- 
ple. — Fraternal Affection. — Friendship. — Gratitude. — Something 
more than a Mere Feeling. — Kindness awakens Affection. — 
Patriotism. — Conspicuous under a Popular Form of Government. 

— National Life. — National Consciousness and Sensibility. — 
Philanthropy. — A Positive Affection. — Not Exceptional nor Local. 

— Benevolent Enterprises. — Reformatory Movements. — Noted Phil- 
anthropists. — In Barbarous Tribes. — Sympathy. — Not a Simple 
Emotion. — Affected by the Emotions of Others. — More affected by 
Adversities of Others than by their Prosperities. — Reasons for the 
Difference. — Difference between it and Commiseration and Compas- 
sion. — Not Pity. — Pity and Commiseration 211 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE MALEVOLENT OB MALEFICENT AFFECTIONS. 

Reasons for adhering to These Terms. — Anger. — Basis of All Malev- 
olent Affections. - Instinctive and Voluntary. — May be diminished 
or enhanced by Reflection. — Affected by Imagination. —Instinctive 
Anger. — Culpable in Persons of Culture. — Not necessarily wholly 
Inconsistent with Our Constitution. — A Proper Place and Use for 
it. — Instinctive Resentment, no Moral Character. — Voluntary 
Resentment, how far Justifiable. — Different Kinds of Resentment. 
— Indignation, Wrath, Rage, Fury, Revenge, Envy, Jealousy. — 
Peculiarity of the Last 222 



CONTENTS. xxi 

DIVISION THIRD. 

THE WILL. 
CHAPTER I. 

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. 

PAGE 

Recapitulation. — Intimate Relations of the Three Divisions of the 
Soul. — What is the Will ?— Not an Entity, but a Power. —Defini- 
tions: Hopkins, Reid, "Whedon. — Acts with Reference to the Other 
Powers. —Illustration. — The Real Act of the "Will. — Volition fol- 
lows Choice, but not necessarily. — Choice Incomplete in itself. — 
Two Constituents of the Will, Choice and "Volition. — Will condi- 
tioned on Other Acts. — Volition not Physical Effort 231 

CHAPTER II. 

CHOICE AND MOTIVE. 

Motive not a Part nor a Cause of the Willing, but an Essential Con- 
dition. — Condition differs from Cause. — Conflicting Motives. — 
Classes of Motives. — Alternatives of Duty and Pleasure. — Sub- 
sidiary Motives. — No Choice compelled, — Choice not Preference. — 
Determination 236 

CHAPTER III. 

MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 

Free only within Certain Limits. — Neither Body, nor Intellect, nor 
Sensibilities absolutely Free. — Even the Will has its Freedom 
restricted. — Must choose between Contradictory Alternatives. 

— Liberty of Choice not Liberty of Action. — Conflicting Influences. 

— But Freedom Absolute within its Sphere. — Testimony of Con- 
sciousness. — Universal Conviction. — Approval and Disapproval of 
Acts of Others. — Responsibility implies Freedom. — Judgment 
modified by Circumstances. — Power of the Will and the Influences 
affecting it Variable. — If the Influences are Controlling, then 
there is no Will. — Weakness and Strength of Will depend on the 
Subject 239 



xxii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE WILL NOT A SUSCEPTIBILITY, BUT A POWER. 

PAGE 

Effect of the Composition of Forces. — Dr. Schuyler's Illustration. — 
Motive the Reason why, but not the Cause. — The Will a First Cause. 

— A Finite First Cause just as Real as an Infinite First Cause. — 

A Supernatural Power. — Man the Master of his Cravings .... 244 

CHAPTER V. 

MORAL CHOICE. 

Preliminary Deliberation. — Sometimes a Protracted Struggle, and 
sometimes an Immediate Decision. — Usually between Self-Interest 
and Duty. — Deliberation in Other Cases, but more easily settled. 

— Difference in the Consequences. — This Distinction not wholly 
Clear. — A Tinge of Obligation even in Self-regarding Desires. — 
Illustration. — Will in Relation to Construction of Character. — 
Order of Relative Importance among the Principles involved in the 
Making of Character. — Law of Right Paramount. — Will as a Gov- 
erning Purpose. — The Final and Supreme End of Action. — The 
Opposite Interest 247 



CHAPTER VI. 

COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 

Liberty and Freedom. — Liberty in a Modified Sense. — The Child's 
Definition of Liberty. — This nearly the Correct Notion. — No One 
in Possession of this Liberty. — Desires mutually Restrictive. — Is 
Perfect Liberty Attainable ? — It is at least Conceivable. — A Perfect 
Character implies Perfect Liberty. — We are under a System of 
Law. — Our Mai-Adjustment to it. — The Object of all Ethical 
Training is to effect a Re-adjustment. — When One's Desires run 
Parallel with the Divine Desires they will be Parallel with Each 
Other, and Conflict will be Impossible, and Liberty will be Perfect. 
— Liberty of Saints and Angels, not because they cannot do Wrong, 
but because they do not want to. — We do not want to put our 
Hands in the Fire, but we are at Liberty to do so 252 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

NECESSARY IDEAS PRODUCED BY THE COMBINED ACTION OF 
THE INTELLECT, SENSIBILITIES, AND WILL. 

PAGE 

Reference to Necessary Ideas previously considered. — Personality. — 
Closely related to all Other Necessary Ideas of this Class. — Unde- 
finable. — Person and Thing. — Power and Cause. — Not Identical, 
but closely connected. — Cause implies Power. — Power not Phe- 
nomenon. — Not a Product of the Discursive Faculties. — Its First 
Cognition in Personal Exercise of it. — " Invariable Antecedency." 

— An Antecedent not necessarily a Cause. — Dr. Hickok's Illustra- 
tion. — Successive Events caused by a Common Force. — Notion of 
Cause not gained by Experience. — An Antecedent with Power. — 
Axiom implied. — Freedom. — Origin of the Idea. — The Occasion. 

— Rights and Obligations. — Origin of the Idea of Right. — Of Obli- 
gation. — Obligation related to Intellect, Sensibility, and"Will. — 
Contains Elements of both Reason and Impulse. — An Authorita- 
tive Impulse, an Inward Law. — The Law Promissory and Mina- 
tory, but not Compulsory. — Merit and Demerit — Their Nature. — 
Responsibility. — Dependent on the Will as Free. — Unthinkable 
without Freedom. — Differs from Obligation.— Punishment. — Not 

the Same as Consequence of Conduct. — Penalty and Punishment . 256 



PSYCHOLOGY. 






INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 

MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Psychology is the science of the human soul. The term 
soul is used here rather than mind, as more obviously cov- 
ering the whole subject of inquiry. As Dr. p syc h i og y 
Porter says, the terms Science of Mind, Mental defined. 
Philosophy, and Mental Science are apt to be applied only to 
the power of the soul to know — to the intellectual fac- 
ulties — and are not generally used with reference to the 
capacity to feel and to will, or for its functions taken 
together. 

As just stated, Psychology is a science. It is important 
to understand definitely what is meant by science. The 
general meaning, of course, is knowledge. But psychology 
science as used among scholars is something a science, 
other than this. It means knowledge systematized and 
classified, embracing also a knowledge of laws, causes, and 
relations. While often used as substantially synonymous 
with Philosophy, it yet differs from it in this Philosophy 
respect, that Science pertains more to mat- ™^IT 
ters of fact, and Philosophy to speculative from science, 
matters. Perhaps we may be justified in saying that Phi- 
losophy deals with truth, Science with facts. Philosophy 
deals also with first principles; that is, the principles 
which are prior to all science, and which underlie all 



2 PSYCHOLOGY. 

knowledge. It is scarcely possible, then, to pursue the 
study of any science without an implied philosophy. 

The first thing to be done in the study of any science is 
to observe the Phenomena. By phenomena we mean sim- 
Phenomena P^ those things which present themselves to 
to be studied our powers of intelligence, — those which ap- 
pear. We classify these and endeavor to ascer- 
tain the causes of them, and the laws and principles by 
which they are governed. We must pursue this course in 
the study of the human soul. The peculiarity of this 
Observation study is that our observations of the phenomena 
of psychical of the soul are to be made by one of the fac- 
by a faculty ulties of the soul itself. We have a distinct 
of the soul. f acu ity, the function of which is to take cogni- 
zance of the operations of the soul. Popularly it is known 
by the name of Consciousness, but scientifically this term has 
a broader signification, as will be seen when we come to 
study it more particularly. The faculty is called more 
definitely by the name of the Inner-Sense. By it we gain 
all the knowledge we have of the phenomena of the mind 
or soul. 

OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MATTER 
AND MIND. 

Is there any good reason for believing in the existence 
of mind or soul as something separate from matter? Mate- 
Materialistic rialistic philosophy answers this question in the 
arguments, negative. It asserts that there is nothing in the 
universe but matter, and that what we call mind, soul, 
spirit, is only a form, or perhaps some function, of matter. 
The main arguments for this doctrine are as follows : 1. The 
soul is connected with a body. 2. It is developed with the 



MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 3 

body. 3. It is dependent on the body for its knowledge and 
enjoyment. 4. It is also dependent on the body for its 
energy and activity. 5. And finally, that we know nothing 
about soul, while we have a definite knowledge of matter. 

To these arguments it may be replied : That while we 
admit that the body is a condition for the soul, counter 
and that the latter is dependent to a certain arguments, 
extent on the former, still there are many conclusive rea- 
sons for believing it to be a separate existence. 

1. While by sense-perception we know nothing about the 
soul, except its operations, we still know quite as much 
about it as we know about the body. The only w , 
intelligence we have concerning the latter, ex- much about 
cept the fact of its existence, is the qualities about the 
and properties which appeal to the several senses. body# 
The same is true concerning the mind. We know by 
the Inner-Sense only its energies. The knowledge of the 
substance in both cases comes to us by the very con- 
stitution of the mind itself — we know that such sub- 
stance or substances exist, as soon as we cognize the 
qualities. It is in both the same. The Inner-Sense appre- 
hends certain operations constituting mental phenomena, 
and we at once and necessarily know that these phe- 
nomena have a basis, a substance, just as we perceive cer- 
tain qualities of matter; and there necessarily follows in 
the mind the knowledge that there is a substance in which 
they inhere. If either of these be known more If eitber 
directly than the other, it is the soul, since the known more 
Inner-Sense gives us the phenomena of this the other, it 
directly ; while in the case of matter the Inner- 1S the soul * 
Sense must first be cognizant of sensation before percep- 
tion can apprehend any external phenomena. 



4 PSYCHOLOGY. 

2. The two sets of phenomena are radically different in 
The two sets many respects ; in this, particularly, that those 
radlcaSy'S. 8 ' °^ matter are mainly properties and qualities, 
ferent. while those of soul are energies and activities. 

3. The soul distinguishes itself from matter. It is 
clear to itself that it is not matter. It knows, as certainly 
s ui di f - as ^ knows anything, that the perceiving agent 
guishes itself is not the same as the material objects which it 

from matter. . T , , . . ,, » , 

perceives. It also resists the forces and move- 
ments of its own body, and in so doing distinguishes 
itself from that which it resists. 

4. The laws of matter are not compatible with the phe- 
nomena of soul. Take the law of inertia, which is an 
Laws of mat- essential law of matter. A body will continue 
oTmind t in - S8 m a state °f res t or motion, whichever it may 
compatible, be, unless some force outside of itself operate 
upon it and change that state. The soul is subject to no 
The soul self- such law. It is self-active. It knows itself as 
active. acting voluntarily. It acts from within by an 
energy of its own, and not merely as it is acted upon. 

These are only a few of the reasons for believing that 
the soul is something entirely different in essence from 
the body. 

One of the principal reasons why we know less about 
the character of the soul than we know about matter, 
Reasons why notwithstanding the fact that the former lies. 
we seem to proximate to the consciousness, while the latter 
about matter does not, is that the operations of any soul can 
than mind. ^ e b serV ed by only one person, and that one 
the subject of its operations ; while material facts and 
qualities can be perceived by several at the same time. 
They can thus make them easily and at once matters of 



MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 5 

comparison and discussion, and so become quickly familiar 
with them. It also tends to greater accuracy, since one's 
discernment may supplement, and so correct, that of 
another. We do not dwell much upon subjects concern- 
ing which Ave cannot have a communion of interest with 
others about us. Especially is this the case early in life, 
and with persons who have no great mental discipline. 
We do not naturally give much thought to anything unless 
our attention is called to it by the action or suggestion of 
those about us ; and when the subject is any act or char- 
acteristic of our own minds there is no one to observe it 
but ourselves, — hence no one to call our attention to it, or 
to make suggestions concerning it. For these, and possi- 
bly other reasons, we become habituated to think and talk 
about the external very much more than the internal, — 
the material rather than the spiritual. 

RELATION OF THE SOUL TO THE BODY. 

1. In man the body is a condition for the soul. It is a 
principle laid down by Dr. Hopkins, that " those forces, 
and forms of being, and faculties and products, Law of con _ 
are lower which are a condition for those which ditioning and 
are conditioned upon them." The whole struc- 
ture of the universe proceeds on this principle, and herein 
the unity of the Cosmos is found. Among the great forces 
gravitation is a condition for cohesion, gravitation and 
cohesion for chemical affinity, and all these for vegetable 
life, and this with those, for animal life, and all for man. 
This does not imply an identification of the Condition not 
conditioning and the conditioned, nor that the ^fcondi- 
former is the cause of the latter. The founda- tioned. 
tion is a condition for the house, but it is not the house, 



6 PSYCHOLOGY. 

nor the cause of it. Much less is the house identical 
with the foundation. It is furthermore evident that the 
Conditioned conditioned is in general something more than 
something the condition. Cohesion is gravity plus some- 
the condi- thing quite other than gravitation. So of man 
tiomng. as £] ie conditioned of animal ; it is "animal plus 

something else, and this something else is rational soul. 
Still, as a house cannot exist without a foundation, and as 
cohesion is impossible without gravitation, so, as far as we 
can see, the human soul is conditioned on the human body. 

2. The various parts of the body are instruments or 
means for the operations of the soul. The brain, the nerv- 
Members of ous system, the several senses, and all the 
instruments necessai T concomitants and conditions of these, 
of soul. are also conditions and means for the soul's 
action. The body is connected with the soul, and thus 
brought into this operative relationship by the principle of 
Life and n ^ e - The existence of the soul is not neces- 
organization. sarily dependent on this, any more than is the 
matter 'of which the body is composed. But the organ- 
ization of the body is so apparently dependent on life, 
that we nowhere find the latter where the former does 
not exist; and on the cessation of life, disorganization 
begins. 

3. The various powers of the soul are first called into 
exercise by the organs of sense. Were there no capa- 
Sensation bility of receiving impressions from without, 
for^cMcai the soul, though possessed of susceptibilities, 
activity. would never act, and consequently would be 
unconscious of its own existence. But having once been 
called into action by these impressions, it is no longer 
wholly dependent on them for its activity. The inner- 



MEANING AND SCOPE OF PSYCHOLOGY. 7 

sense, the discursive faculties, reason and memory, begin 
to work as soon as there is anything to work on, or any 
occasion ; and this occasion is furnished by the first im- 
pressions from without. 

DIVISION OF PSYCHICAL PHENOMENA AND 
POWERS. 

There are three forms of psychical manifestation, — the 
Intellect, the Sensibility, and the Will. These f ol- Three foms 
low the principle of conditioning and concli- of psychical 
tioned, to which reference has been previously p er 
made. We have no feeling, that is, no action of the sen- 
sibility, only as we have knowledge, which is a „ f .. 
product of the intellect. There can be no in- without 
terest, no desire, or any delight, in that of now e s& ' 
which we know nothing. So, also, we make no effort, 
and put forth no activity, except as we have No action 
both knowledge and feeling. We act in view ^^igjL e 
of motives, but motives are of the sensibilities. and feeling. 

We are to guard here against the thought that there is 
a division of the soul into parts, of which one is to be 
regarded as Intellect, another as Sensibility, and „ arti _ 
the third as Will. The soul is an indivisible tive division 
unit. It has no parts ; it does not act in sec- 
tions. Whatever activity or phenomena it has is of the 
whole. The soul as intellect knows ; as sensibility it 
feels ; and as will it chooses, and puts forth volitions. It is 
the soul, and not any part of it, that does each of these. 



DIVISION FIRST. 



THE INTELLECT. 



PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 

GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT — 
DEFINITIONS. 

It is by the Intellect that we know. But what is it to 
know? It would be impossible to answer this question 
intelligently, except to a person who already in what is 
some sense understands the answer. There is knowledge? 
nothing out of a knowing mind to which it can apply. 
Eminent philosophers have answered the question by say- 
ing it is " to be certain of something." This seems to be 
little more than a synonyme, but it serves to bound off 
knowledge from some things liable to be mistaken for it 
which it is not. It is not belief, or opinion, or conjecture. 
" Knowledge," says Whately, " implies three things, — 1st, 
Firm belief ; 2d, Of what is true ; 3d, On sufficient 
grounds. If any one is in doubt, for example, i ncom patibie 
respecting one of Euclid's demonstrations, he with doubt, 
cannot be said to know the proposition proved by it ; if, 
again, he is fully convinced of anything that is not true, he 
is mistaken in supposing himself to know it ; Not s ^ on „ 
lastly, if two persons are each fully confident, mous with 
one that the moon is inhabited, and the other 
that it is not (though one of these opinions must be true), 
neither of them can properly be said to know the truth, 
since he cannot have sufficient proof of it." 

Knowledge is not the same as Truth. This is evident 



12 PSYCHOLOGY. 

from the fact that truth is frequently the object of knowl- 
Differs from e( %e, the thing to be known, and it would not 
truth. b e quite reasonable to assume that the knowl- 

edge and the thing known are identical. Truth is the 
reality of things, and is the same, whether known or not. 
New truths are being constantly found out, but until 
found out they are not known. Then again truth is not 
knowledge when it is not certitude. As we have seen, 
man knows only what he is certain of. There are actual 
truths of which he is not yet certain ; hence there is no 
knowledge respecting them. 

" Knowledge supposes three terms : a being who knows, 
Three terms an object known, and a relation determined be- 

impiied in tween the knowing being and the known object. 
knowlsd&TG 

This relation properly constitutes knowledge." 1 

But it is not the whole of the business of the Intellect 
to know. The greater part of its operations are subsidiary 
Not the sole to knowledge, and many of these operations 
thefntSiect sto P snort of actua l knowledge. We may ap- 
to know. proximate certainty to a greater or less degree, 
and even much of what we take for granted and act upon 
as if we knew it, is not knowledge in its strict and scien- 
tific sense. We search for knowledge ; we investigate, 
and reason, and compute ; we examine, and compare, and 
generalize, and do many other things with the intellect, 
the result of which is sometimes knowledge, but more 
frequently it is belief, theory, or conviction ; and some- 
times, perhaps, it is none of these. 

There are several Terms of frequent use in the 
study of psychology, some of which have already ap- 
Terms to be peared in the preceding pages, and others 
defined. we s h a ll find as we go on, which I take this 

1 Fleming. 



GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT. 13 

opportunity to define and describe. Psychology and 
Phenomena have been previously explained. Correlative 
with the latter is Substance or substratum. This leaning of 
term is used to denote the unknown basis which substance, 
underlies all phenomena or properties of which the mind 
takes cognizance, whether internal or external. We get 
no knowledge of it by any of the senses, nor by any 
generalization or judgment or reasoning. The knowledge 
of it arises spontaneously in the mind whenever there is a 
cognition, through any means, of any phenomena what- 
ever. The mind itself furnishes this knowledge on the 
proper occasions, because it is constituted to do so. 

As included in phenomena we have cognitions to which 
we give the names of quality, property, attribute, etc. 
Quality is that in a substance which appeals to n ualit 
the power of apprehension in us, and which attribute, 
distinguishes • one individual from another, or proper y " 
one class from others. Qualities may be essential or acci- 
dental. By the former we mean those characteristics 
which a thing cannot lose without ceasing to be, — for 
instance, body must have extension ; man must Classes of 
have rationality. By the latter are meant those qualities, 
aptitudes and manners of existence which substances may 
have at one time and not at another, or which some other 
aptitudes might be put in the place of, and yet the object 
would not cease to be, — as a white house, a sick man, a 
cloudy sky. 

Attribute is very nearly a synonyme for quality, only 
perhaps more likely to be used in speaking of qualities 
of a higher type and more dignified character, as the 
attributes of God. 

Property has reference usually to some peculiar quality, 



14 PSYCHOLOGY. 

but is frequently used coextensively with quality in gen- 
eral. As matter of fact, these terms are largely used in 
popular discourse and conversation as synonymous. 

Subject and Object are terms frequently occurring in this 
study, as also their derivatives, subjective and objective 
Subject and By the former is meant the soul as perceiving, 
object. observing, thinking, and by the latter that about 

which the soul is thus occupied, whether it be external or 
internal. The object is also the product of the mind in 
thinking, even when no material object is implied. As, 
for instance, a man has been studying and investigating 
the cause of earthquakes. He has finally arrived at what 
seems to him an explanation of the phenomena. He has 
formed a theory. This is now objective, while his previous 
processes have been subjective. Generally, the thinking or 
knowing entity is the subject ; that which it thinks 
about or knows is the object. So of the terms subjective 
and objective, though these as used are somewhat more 
elusive. There are some words which have both a subjec- 
tive and an objective meaning ; as Beauty is used either for 
the quality in the object which causes the peculiar feeling 
in the mind, or for the feeling itself. In the former case 
it is objective beauty, and in the latter subjective beauty. 

But a caution, and perhaps a modification, of what has 
been said, is necessary here. When the mind is occupied 
The mind about its own processes, it will be seen at once 
bothsubiect that the subject and the object are the same, 
and object. The mind in this as observing and thinking 
about itself is the subject, while the mind as being observed 
and thought about is the object. For the most part, phi- 
losophers have denominated the mind as thought about, as 
subject-object, and some, in order to make a symmetrical 



GENERAL FUNCTIONS OF THE INTELLECT. 15 

nomenclature, have called the external object the object- 
object, though this latter designation seems hardly neces- 
sary. 

We have another set of words closely related. The 
first of these is Power. It is in general an ability to pro- 
duce a change. It is not necessarily that which power 
is at any given time producing the changes, but 
that which renders the subject of it competent to produce 
changes. As, for instance, I have power to walk, though 
at present I am sitting still. Power is by a considerable 
number of writers represented as active and passive ; the 
latter indicating a capability of being changed. But this, 
it seems to me, is better to be designated as Susceptibility, 
which I would thus define. 

Faculty is closely akin to power. All faculties are 
powers, but, according to Reid, not all powers are facul- 
ties. He regards the word faculty as properly 
applied to those powers which are original and 
natural, and which make a part of the constitution of the 
human mind. Dr. Hopkins teaches that a faculty is some 
power of the mind under the control of the Will. Thus 
he would not call Consciousness a faculty, nor does he so 
regard that power by which the mind becomes possessed 
of necessary ideas. In this he does not agree with either 
Reid or Hamilton. Dr. Wayland applies the term to all 
the powers and susceptibilities of the mind, going to the 
other extreme. It will be sufficient for our purpose if we 
define faculty as the power of the mind to act. 

Capacity has a kindred signification. Literally it means 
room for. It is substantially synonymous with what I have 
previously called susceptibility, or what Reid Meaninff of 
calls the passive power of the mind. capacity. 



16 PSYCHOLOGY. 

The relationship of these three terms may be briefly 
The three stated thus : power is active and passive ; fac- 
compared. ulty is active power ; capacity is passive power. 1 

DIVISION OF THE INTELLECTUAL PHENOMENA. 

These will be treated in three parts, — 
i. The Pkesentative Faculty, 
ii. The Representative Faculty, 
hi. The Elaborative Faculty, 
iv. The Regulative Faculty. 

1 Fleming. 



PART I. 



THE PRESENTATIVE FACULTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

The Presentative Faculties are those powers of the mind 
by which knowledge comes to us directly from simple ob- 
servation. They are subdivided into Sense-Per- p^g,,^ 
ception, and what is popularly called Consciousness, faculties 
but more properly the Inner-Sense. The former 
gives us cognitions of the world of matter, the latter of the 
world of mind. 

One of the great questions of Psychology is, How does 
the soul come into communication with the outer world ? 
How can immaterial mind come into relations How can the 
with material substance, so that the former shall t0 communi" 
receive impressions from the latter? The an- {^"V^ l 
swers to this question have been various. Like world? 
most other subjects pertaining to our constitution and re- 
lations, it is involved in more or less of mystery. It is not 
likely that this mystery, under present human limitations, 
will ever be absolutely cleared up. But we can at least 
trace the outlines of the process, and note a considerable 
proportion of the attendant phenomena. 

We observe, first, that there are several bodily organs 
and instrumentalities concerned in this process. To begin 
at the outer surface, we find the organs of sight, 
of hearing, of smelling, of tasting, and of touch. 
Certain qualities or properties of matter affect these in 



20 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ways corresponding to the constitution of the several 
organs. We next observe that these organs are all inti- 
The senso- niately connected with what is called the Senso- 
rium. rium. This consists of the brain, spinal column, 

and a system of nerves running from these to every minute 
part of the surface of the body, and to most of the internal 
points. When any outward object or quality makes an 
impression upon its corresponding sense, it affects one of 
Result of the nerves, winch is so nearly like a telegraphic 
sensation. w i re that through it an effect is instantly pro- 
duced in the brain. We cannot trace this series of physical 
effects any further. We only know that with the vibration 
of the nerve and the effect on the brain, there comes a 
change in the mind; we know ourselves to be in a new 
state. We say we are sensible of it, or conscious of it, 
and that is all we immediately know. 

This is what we call a Sensation, and the general name by 
which we designate this whole class of changes thus pro- 
Sensation a duced in the mind is Sensations. Thus, if a rose 
state of mind. i s brought near us for the first time, even if we 
are not able to see it, the odor given off from it somehow 
affects the olfactory nerve, and produces a peculiar state 
of mind. We apprehend this change by the Inner-Sense, 
but this is all that we at first know. We are not, on 
the supposition we are now making, aware that there is 
any outward object that causes it. The effect, so far as 
appears, may have been produced by some internal cause. 
So if, for the first time, we hear the music of an organ, the 
only cognition we have is of a state of mind, and we do 
not know that it comes from without. 

It is only after some experience, and the combined action 
of our senses, that we learn to refer these states of mind, 



SENSE-PERCEPTION. 21 

or internal changes, to some object in the external world. 
Here we have Perception. We wish to get a 
clear distinction between Sensation and Percep- 
tion, and, as well, the exact relation of the two processes. 

Sensation is a state of mind produced by some external ob- 
ject or influence operating upon the sensorium, and is imme- 
diately successive to a change in some organ of 

U „ ,. * n A Sensation 

sense. Perception is an act or process of the andpercep- 

m,ind immediately successive to a sensation, by tlon denne(i- 
which we refer this sensation to something external as its 
cause. 

It is sometimes said that Sensation is subjective, and 
Perception objective. But this needs qualification. Per- 
ception, as well as Sensation, is subjective ; but sensation 
the knowledge we get by perception is of exter- lerleptfon 
nal, outer, or objective things, while Sensation objective, 
is exclusively subjective, and implies no knowledge of ex- 
ternality. Dr. Hopkins says that Sensation is a movement 
from without inward, Perception is a movement from 
within outward. 



22 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER II. 

HOW WE BECOME ACQUAINTED WITH THE OUTER 
WORLD. 

Before Sensation can be of any use to us in the way 
of increasing our knowledge, or before Perception can 
properly avail as a faculty of cognition, we must some- 
how know that there is an external world. How do 
we acquire this knowledge, is the immediate present 
question. 

By superficial thinkers, and, indeed, by many who are 
not superficial, it is claimed that we come to this knowl- 
Not directly edge through one or more of the senses, as 
ormofeofthe touch or sight. Dr. Wayland held that sight 
senses. was immediate perception and not sensation. 

But I believe his view is sustained by very few good 
authorities. If, as has been stated, sensations are wholly 
subjective, and give no knowledge of external things, 
there must be some other way of accounting for this 
knowledge. That the sensations do not give this knowl- 
edge directly may be made evident by observing the 
process of sensation through the several organs. 

Let us take first the sense of Smell as being, perhaps, 
the simplest. An odorous body, say a rose, is brought 
Sense of near the person. This odor affects the olfac- 
smeil. tory nerve, as before described. Immediately 

a sensation is experienced, — a new state of mind. Of 



HOW ACQUAINTED WITH OUTER WORLD. 23 

this the person affected becomes aware by the Inner-Sense. 
But this is all that he is aware of. There is in this no 
intimation of any external cause. So far as the r . 

J Gives no mti- 

individual is concerned, the new state may be matkm of ex- 
simply the result of an internal change. It is 
true that when once we have learned that there is an 
outer world, and have associated the sense of sight with 
that of smell, then, by observing that whenever the rose 
is present, the same state of mind occurs, and that it does 
not occur when this is absent, we come to regard the pres- 
ence of the rose as the cause of this particular state of 
mind, and the state of mind, or sensation, becomes the 
recognized sign that the rose is present. But neither of 
these is supposed in the present illustration. We are 
considering the sense of smell by itself, and are not yet 
presumed to have discovered an external world. Clearly, 
this sense by itself gives us no such knowledge. 

Let us next observe the operation of Taste, the sense of 
Flavor. There is some difficulty in studying this, as it can 
never be wholly separated from the sense of sense of 
Touch. Any object which we are to taste taste - 
must, in order to affect the organs of taste, touch the 
mouth and tongue. But we may easily separate, in our 
minds, the two sensations. In taste, the parts affected are 
the tongue, the palate, and the pharynx. The mucous 
membrane of these parts is thickly covered with papillce, 
and the nerves running from these, as from the organs of 
sensation, convey the effect to the brain, and hence the 
sense of taste. Evidently here, but not quite so evidently 
as in the case of smell, the state of mind is the only thing 
cognized. It cannot by itself, and before other experi- 
ences, give any intimation of a cause in the outer world, 



24 PSYCHOLOGY. 

for the reason that an outer world is not yet cognized. 
Nor does this, of itself, intimate the outer world. 

The same result will be arrived at in the case of 
Hearing. Some sonorous body produces vibrations in the 
Sense of a i p which affect the auricular apparatus. The 
hearing. effect may proceed from a musical instrument. 
There is a corresponding effect in the mind. But this 
Nothing ex- g ives n °t the slightest intimation of being pro- 
ternai inti- duced by anything external to the mind. So 
far as appears from the sensation itself, it is 
wholly within the mind itself. 

So far, there is little difficulty in accepting the view 
that the senses themselves give us no knowledge of the 
Sense of outer world. But now we come to the sense of 
sight. Sight, and shall, perhaps, find the opinion less 

plausible. Some writers have stoutly insisted that this 
sense certainly gives us direct cognition of the object 
seen. The eye, by its very constitution, gives us a larger 
range of sensations than any of the foregoing senses. 
Being mobile, it seems to have a larger variety of sensa- 
tions than the others, and perhaps it does. Still it may 
not have quite all that it seems to have. By experience 
and the co-operation of the other senses, we acquire the 
power to perceive by the eye, not only the color but the 
form, the size, and many other qualities of a visible object. 
Color is what ^ ut tne P r0 P er quality that appeals to the eye 
appeals to is Color. Dr. Hopkins favors the opinion that 
the eye properly gives only the sensation of 
color. " Suppose the eye were set in stone and held 
fixed. . . . Nobody supposes that the eye originally gives 
form in more than one dimension, — that we see a globe or 
cube as such. It could then be but a colored surface. 



HOW ACQUAINTED WITH OUTER WORLD. 25 

But under these circumstances, what could then be known 
of surface or extension? Could the form be anything 
more than the form of color, and would that be form at 
all ? I think not." If this be so, then color is the only 
thing that affects the eye in vision, and that effect is a 
simple sensation, a state of mind which in itself gives no 
intimation of externality. 

In Touch, as it appears to some, externality is obvious. 
But we are to consider that when we touch a thing, there 
is generally something besides simple tactual Sense of 
effect, such as roughness or smoothness, cold touch - 
or warmth. There is also Pressure. It is true we can con- 
ceive of simple touch separate from pressure. Something 
In such case we are affected by the tactual ^effecT*" 
quality and nothing else. If we can regard Pressure, 
this alone as the effect of touch, we shall find that we 
have here, as in the other senses, only the sensation, a 
state of the mind which intimates nothing separate from 
itself. 

We have now examined the operations of all the senses, 
and have, so far, discovered no way in which the mind or 
soul gets any knowledge of externality. Sen- Thekno^i- 
sation does not give it, nor, so far as I can see, nafity not* 61 
does it come in connection with the operation throu &h 

r sense alone, 

of any or all of the senses. How, then, does it but through 

o resistance. 

come t 

Any spontaneous or instinctive movement from within 

is certain to be met by some resistance, pressure against, or 

modification of that movement. It is then that the individual 

discovers that he is not the only being extant, — that there 

is something besides and exterior to himself. He has found 

an outer world, and he is not long in distinguishing it into 



26 PSYCHOLOGY. 

parts and individual objects. This pressure, resistance, 
Accompanied and modification of his movements is very likely 
separate' yet ^° ^ e accompanied by Touch, and is yet separate 
from it. from it. Still, by touch and sight principally, 

and by the other senses subordinately, he learns that when 
Sensations certain objects are presented, certain sensations 
tefnai^b* or states °f niind occur to him. These become 
jects. signs of the presence and influence upon him of 

these several objects. We learn these signs and their sig- 
nificance as we learn the alphabet and the vocabulary of a 
language ; and thus, by experience and habitual practice, 
come to refer any sensation to some appropriate external 
object as its cause. This is Perception. We are not to 
suppose that this minute analysis takes place in every act 
of perception. It is one concrete act, just as in reading we 
do not analyze each word into its letters and syllables, and 
think of each elemental sound ; but by a glance we compre- 
hend the word, and sometimes the whole sentence, at once. 



ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 27 



CHAPTER III. 

ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 

It must be understood that in the preceding chapter we 
have given but a bare outline of the philosophy of Sensation 
and Perception, and that their relations are not quite so 
simple as this representation might seem to indicate. Each 
one of the senses furnishes its very large, diverse, and yet 
peculiar group of sensations which stand as signs of 
external facts, the interpretation of which constitutes per- 
ception. But these become curiously and wondrously 
complicated from the fact that each sense bor- Each sense a 
rows from the others. One seems to convey to f r ° r ^°^ r 
us knowledge which must have been gained only others, 
by another. Thus I find by touch that a certain object is 
hard, and that another is soft. The one may be a piece 
of iron, the other a lump of dough. I observe that there 
is a difference in their appearance. It is probable that we 
may need a series of experiments in this line We learn b 
before we come to recognize the fact that in a experience, 
large proportion of soft things there is a certain common 
appearance to the eye, and that in a large proportion of 
hard things there is a certain other appearance. We soon 
learn to distinguish these different appearances, and to 
associate one with the quality of hardness, and the other 
with that of softness. Henceforth we distinguish by the 
eye objects as hard and soft, not always so accurately as 



28 PSYCHOLOGY. 

by the touch, and yet for the most part accurately enough 

for practical purposes. So we say of a certain 
Sight bor- ^ * K, , J 7 7 , , 

rowing from appearance that it has a warm look, and. 01 

another that it has a cold look. Now warm 

and cold are not qualities that appeal at all to the eye, 

but we have noticed many times that this appearance of 

the sky or clouds is accompanied by the one temperature, 

and that, by the other ; hence we use these terms, and are 

seldom wrong in the qualities they symbolize. 

A barrel has another sound if rapped upon when it is 
empty than when it is full. Hence it is not necessary 
Sound bor- to ascertain the fact either by sight or by 
touchand 0in touch, as the sound will give the information 
sight. sought. So a mason, if he wishes to find 

whether a wall is solid, can tell by striking here and there 
with a hammer, and a carpenter will determine where to 
drive a nail in a plastered wall which has a perfectly uni- 
form appearance to the eye, by rapping with his hammer 
along the surface till he finds a place which gives a dead- 
ened sound. He knows by this that there is a joist behind 
the lath. In this way, also, do we recognize roughness and 
smoothness, flexibility and rigidity, solid and fluid sub- 
stances, and many others by the eye, where the primary 
means of distinguishing them is by the touch. 

Not unfrequently vision has the same effect as phy- 
sical taste. One is made sick sometimes by the sight 
of some object which is associated with a nau- 
rowingfrom seous odor or flavor. So the sight appropriates 
taste. ag y. g own what j s a matter of judgment, in 

which, perhaps, several sources of cognition are involved. 
We learn to estimate distance by the eye. This is gained 
by a varied process and by considerable experience. We 



ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 29 

see an object with which we are familiar. We easily 
determine whether it is near by or far off by its Di . , 
visible appearance. If its outline be clear and termined by 
distinct, and if it make a certain angle on the rowing from 
eye, we know it is near by. If the outline be some- * he other , 

J ' J senses and 

what dim and indistinct, and if the visual angle faculties. 
be much smaller than in the other case, we at once decide that 
it is far off, and we learn to estimate these comparative dis- 
tances and their measurements by these signs. A butcher 
or drover who is in the practice of buying cattle 
by weight, will learn to estimate with marvel- matfd by* * 
lous approximation to correctness how much an Slght> 
animal will weigh by simply looking at him. 

Not only do we learn by the eye what is primarily the 
product of the other senses, but we very readily appre- 
hend what is directly the product of no sense, states of 
We see a blushing cheek, a smiling or frowning j^j^f " the 
face, a downcast expression; all these tell of eye. 
certain emotions as plainly as we can learn them through 
any means whatever. Yet certainly emotions are not 
matters of sensual observation. It is by this mental co- 
operation, as we might say, of the senses, this service of 
one to another, of all to each, that we add immeasurably 
to the number, variety, and wealth of our per- 
ceptions. It is probable that our knowledge is crease of our 
many hundred-fold greater than it would be if t^° s ^ 1 e . d c ge _ by 
we were dependent on what each sense, operat- erationofthe 

SGUSGS 

ing by itself and limited to its own natural 
powers, would give us. • This very reasoning suggests to 
us a certain caution respecting the use of our senses, which 
may also show us a reason why certain indications that 
our perceptions are not always valid, are not themselves 



30 PSYCHOLOGY. 

trustworthy. In general, we may say that the natural 

and primary perceptions are always valid. It is 
monyofour only the acquired perceptions that sometimes 
when e or?gi. d mislead us. Dr. Wayland relates the story of 
nai and not a person who, on coining to a certain house where 

he had an appointment, found the door locked ; 
but looking up, he saw what appeared to him to be the key 
of the door, which he proceeded to take down. On reach- 
ing for the key he found there was none there. It was 
only the painted figure of the key, so shaded as to make 
the same impression on the eye as a real key would have 
done. The question arises : Did not his senses deceive 
him ? Is not this an instance of invalid perception ? It 
might appear so. But the latter appearance is no less fal- 
lacious than the former. The appearance of the key was 
false ; the appearance of deceit in the sense and percep- 
tion was also false. Instead of his senses deceiving 
him, they removed the deception. Instead of his percep- 
tion apprehending what was not in existence, it was a 
perception of the real character of the object that set 
him right and corrected his error. The truth about the 
matter is, that it was not the primal sense of sight, and 
the accompanying perception, by which he was misled, but 

the borrowed or acquired perception, the trans- 
perception fer from touch to sight, which did the mischief. 
buuheTri- ^ ne man ^ a( l associated the particular shades 
marypercep- of color then and there appealing to the sense 

of sight, with a certain form which can only 
be primarily known through the sense of touch. As 
soon as the proper sense was brought into requisition, the 
error vanished. 

It is thus also that we are deceived by the appearance 



ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS. 31 

of objects seen in a fog. By our acquired perceptions, as 
we have seen, we estimate size by distance, and objects seen 
distance by the greater or less distinctness of in a fog. 
outline. In a fog, the objects seem farther off than they 
really are, and we therefore, from our experience in a 
clear atmosphere, estimate the size accordingly ; that is, 
we estimate the size to be greater than it really is. But 
this is not from the invalidity of natural and primary per- 
ceptions, but from trusting too implicitly to acquired per- 
ceptions. Hence it is evident that when our perceptions 
seem to mislead us, it will generally be found that the 
error arises, not from our original perceptions, but from 
those which are acquired. 

The facility with which, when one sense is destroyed, 
the other senses acquire means to make up a portion of 
the deficiency, and the extent to which this can In the de _ 

be carried, is worthy of our consideration. We structionof 
. , ,. , „ . one sense the 

all know how sight supplies the place of hearing remaining 

in the deaf. Sight, gestures, movements, and oomemore 
facial expressions, instead of sounds, now be- acute- 
come symbols of conceptions and thoughts. Not only, 
thus, does conversation become comparatively easy and 
rapid between two individuals in the presence of each 
other, but through the same means, written language is 
learned, and thus the unfortunate subjects of this depriva- 
tion are brought into communication with the intelligent 
and wise in all ages and places. 

So the blind acquire a vastly quicker and larger range 
of perceptions by means of hearing and touch. It is 
wonderful how easily a blind man will distin- Hearing and 
guish pieces of money on which the impressions tutin/sight" 
are only slightly different ; how easily he learns in the blind. 



32 PSYCHOLOGY. 

to find his way along streets and lanes, and to houses which 
he has never seen ; to become familiar with the apartments 
of a house ; to know a friend by his voice, or by his tread ; to 
have a thorough understanding of complicated instruments, 
like pianos and organs, so that he can not only play them, 
but can tune and repair them, and many other such things. 
It is related of Laura Bridgman and Julia Brace, both of 
whom were deaf and blind, that they could distribute the 
clothes of other inmates of the as}'lum by the smell, and 
that one, and I presume both, could converse rapidly with 
the fingers, could read the books printed in raised letters 
for the blind, and write very intelligibly. 



SENSE-PERCEPTION. 33 



CHAPTER IV. 



NATURE OF THE KNOWLEDGE ACQUIRED BY SENSE- 
PERCEPTION. 

The knowledge acquired by sense-perception is of 
Individuals and never of Classes. We see a tree, a house, 
an ox, a mountain. We hear a human voice, a Knowledge 
bird-song, the bray of a donkey, the roar of ^nTo? 
the wind, the report of a gun or a cannon. So classes. 
of the other senses. But let it be carefully noted that we 
do not think of these several objects as members of classes, 
though I have used class terms in referring to them. We 
perceive each of these by itself, and not in any relation 
whatever to any others as with them constituting groups. 
How groups or classes are formed will be considered here- 
after when we come to the Elaborative Faculties. At 
present we are concerned about Perception and the na- 
ture of the knowledge it gives. This knowledge is only 
of one and another single object, and by itself would be of 
only moderate value. 

But precisely w hat do we perceive ? It must be remem- 
bered that we are now considering Perception, and not 
knowledge. We see an object before us ; we perception 
instantly know it to be a horse, or a bush, or a considered 

i 4.V. -u w byitself,and 

man, or a rock, as the case may be. We com- not as co-op- 

monly use the term Perception for this act of ^^"other 
the mind ; but evidently if we analyze any such powers, 
cognitions we shall find some other power or powers of the 



34 PSYCHOLOGY. 

mind involved. The cognition, undoubtedly, is of the con- 
crete, but this cognition, as I have intimated, is made up 
p e tion °^ severa l elements, of which Perception com- 
oniy one of prises only a part. Perception proper cognizes, 
o/cognTtion. as & seems to me, only qualities or properties. 
Cognizes r pj ie mm( j £ W(WS w one instantaneous act, of 

only quah- ... 

ties and not which Sensation and Perception are elements, 
the individual object as a whole. The eye is 
affected by the color of an object : there is at the same 
instant a perception of an external cause, and a knowl- 
edge of the object as colored. The acquired perceptions 
give, of course, other particulars concerning the body. 
But there is nothing appealing to the senses but certain 
qualities. I do not say that nothing else is perceived or 
known ; because other powers of the mind, as we shall see 
later, co-operating with the senses in Perception, give us 
full cognition of the individual object. 

The qualities which are thus directly cognized by Sense- 
Perception have been divided into primary and secondary. 
Primary and The primary are those which necessarily enter 
secondary ^ llto our no ^ on f ma tter ; we cannot conceive 

qualities of 

matter. of a body which does not possess them. Exten- 

sion, divisibility, figure, and solidity are some of these. 
I have spoken of these as a class of the qualities affecting 
the senses. We are told by some writers that these do 
not in strict propriety affect the senses at all. They are, 
perhaps, all implied in the first, namely, extension; and 
extension is by some good authorities regarded as only 
the necessary quality attaching to all body, that it must 
occupy space. This, it is said, is not given by Perception, 
but by the Pure Reason, by the very constitution of the 
mind. Others, however, take a different view of the 



SENSE-PERCEPTION. 35 

subject, and hold that extension and figure, etc., are 
given by sight. 

The secondary qualities are those which are not necessary 
to our conception of matter, and yet by means of which 
we are variously affected. Such are smell, taste, sound, 
color, roughness, smoothness, etc. We can conceive of a 
body that is not red or yellow ; of one that is wanting in a 
particular odor, or in any odor at all ; that is not smooth ; 
but we cannot conceive of a body that does not occupy 
space, or that does not have some kind of shape. It is 
true we speak of " shapeless masses," but that is a figur- 
ative expression, meaning probably that the shape has no 
name. 

Sir William Hamilton divides the qualities of matter 
into three classes : first, primary ; second, secundo-primary ; 
third, secondary. The primary are objective, sir William 
not subjective, not sensations proper, but per- Hamilton's 
cepts. The secundo-primary are both objective qualities. 
and subjective, percepts proper, and sensations proper. 
The secondary are subjective, not objective, sensations 
proper. The primary qualities are all deduced from the 
two necessary ideas of occupying space, and p r i mary 
being contained in space. Thus we have, first, qualities, 
extension, divisibility, size, density, and figure ; secondly, 
incompressibility absolute, mobility, situation. 

The secundo-primary are first, such as result from gravi- 
tation, as heavy and light ; second, such as are implied in 
cohesion, as hard or soft, fluid or firm, tough gecundo- 
or brittle, rough or smooth, etc. ; third, from primary, 
repulsion result compressible and incompressible, resilient 
or irresilient; fourth, from inertia we have movable and 
immovable. 



36 PSYCHOLOGY. 

The secondary qualities are subjective affections rather 
than qualities, in the strict sense ; that is, they are only 
qualities in the sense that they refer to certain 
characteristics in bodies which are capable of 
producing the affection of which we are conscious in our- 
selves. Such are color, sound, flavor, odor, smoothness, 
and all the various sensations of physical pleasure or pain 
which are caused by the peculiarity of bodies. Thus, as 
has before been noticed in the case of what we call hear- 
ing music, we are conscious of a certain state of mind. 
We learn by experience to refer this state of mind to 
some outward instrument, or some human voice, as its 
cause. It is not at all likely that the external object is 
itself, or that it has in it anything which is identical with, 
or at all resembles, this state of mind. Nevertheless we 
have come to believe unhesitatingly that there is some- 
thing which corresponds to it, and we learn to locate it 
unerringly. 



A TTENTION. 37 



CHAPTER V. 

ATTENTION. 

Up to this point the soul has been regarded as scarcely 
more than the passive recipient of impressions made upon 
it, and the spontaneous interpreter of these The mind ac- 
impressions. But the mind is an active power, merelypai-* 
and in the acquisition of knowledge it must be sive. 
continually putting forth its energies. It is true, the 
mind must be first affected before it comes into action. 
But to the calls to action it ordinarily responds with great 
readiness. When any new state of mind ex- Meaning of 
ists, Attention is aroused. By this we mean a attention, 
voluntary directing of the energy of the mind towards an 
object or act. It has not usually been treated as a distinct 
faculty, but as a general power of the mind subsidiary to 
all the faculties. As intimated, it implies action, and is a 
matter of volition. In the great mass of objects and qual- 
ities that come under our observations, we are scarcely, or 
perhaps not at all, conscious of giving any attention. We 
pass along the street ; we walk without thought, and 
apparently automatically. That is, the walking seems to 
do itself. Still we are really paying more attention to our 
steps than we seem to be. If there is an unexpected 
obstacle, or a muddy spot, or a rough place, how quickly 
we observe it, and how readily avoid it, as if we had been 
on the alert all the while. So during the walk, if in a 



38 PSYCHOLOGY. 

great city thoroughfare, we meet hundreds of men and 
women, many of whom we do not seem to see, yet if 
one of our acquaintances is in the crowd, the readiness 
with which we recognize him shows that we have been 
paying some sort of attention to faces all the time. 

There is a great variety in the degrees of attention which 
we give to a subject. Sometimes, as has been shown, 

Difference in tliere is Vei T little ' aild ^ et enough to reCOg- 

the degrees nize at once any change in the general view, or 

of attention. ,.,.., , . . TT7 . 

any unusual individual in a series. We some- 
times, as Dr. Upham says, judge of the degree of atten- 
tion paid to an object by the length of time one devotes 
to it. But, as he also says, it is more likely to be the case 
that we give the more time because our attention is 
aroused. 

There are many people who find it very difficult to fix 
their attention for any length of time on any one thing, 
Difficulties especially if they have to depend on mere force 
offixing of will. Many others find no difficulty in giv- 
ing their attention, if the subject interests them 
sufficiently. The causes of this interest are various ; cu- 
riosity, hope of good news, or even fear of bad news, 
pleasure in the subject itself, expectation of result in a 
scientific experiment, and a hundred others. Some per- 
sons become so absorbed that everything else vanishes 
from the mind, and the whole force of the soul bends 
itself to one point. Mathematicians have been known 
to solve the most abstruse and complicated problems 
with every variety and character of disturbance about 
them. " The man who can fix his attention, without allow- 
ing it a single excursion for five consecutive minutes, with 
or without the schools, is a liberally educated man." 1 

1 Superintendent Northrup. 



A TTENTION. 39 

It is a question which has been much discussed, whether 

the mind can attend to more than one thing at a time. 

Some have strenuously maintained the nega- c nth • d 

tive. At one time I so held. But I am now attend to 

inclined to the opinion that we may have more one thing at 

than one object of thought at a given instant. a time ? 

It is no doubt true that what sometimes seems to be the 

presence of two or more simultaneous ideas, is only their 

rapid alternation. The intense quickness with which the 

mind acts mav leave intervals too small to be „ 

J Apparently 

discerned, and what appears to be a mere punc- simultaneous 
turn temporis may yet be capable of several rapid aiter- 
divisions. It might thus appear possible that natlon - 
by intensely rapid movement or change the mind may go 
from one of these infinitesimal intervals to another, or 
from the thought occurring in one to that in another, 
in such a way as to make several mental acts appear 
as one. 

But Sir William Hamilton seems to have made it toler- 
ably clear that the mind must sometimes attend to more 
than one thing at a time, and that without this Hamilton's 
view of the subject it is impossible to explain views. 
many phenomena. Thus, for instance, where anything is 
made up of small parts which must be combined by an 
action, of the mind, as in a picture, these several points 
must be taken in simultaneously, or the effect is not pro- 
duced. If it is said we take them ail at a time, one 
disappearing as another appears, and in bringing them 
together we depend on memory, this would only shift 
the difficulty. It would be just as much a case of atten- 
tion to two things if one of the things were a representa- 
tion of memory as if they were both presentations of 



40 PSYCHOLOGY. 

outward or of inward perceptions. It would also, as 
Harmony in Hamilton thinks, be impossible to comprehend 
music. harmony in music if only one sound were pres- 

ent to the mind in the same indivisible instant of time ; 
since harmony involves a multiplicity of different tones. 
If we resort to memory for an explanation, we have the 
same difficulty as pointed out just now in the case of the 
picture, only more palpable here. In short, we shall find 
that in every case in which judgment, or even comparison, 
is called for — and there are few acts of the mind in which 
this is not the case — there must be two objects or ideas 
present at the same time. 

The question arises as to how many things the mind can 
attend to at the same time. Sir William Hamilton and 

others limit the number to about six as the ex- 
How many m _ , -, ■, i • • , 
things can treme limit. It is probable that it is only in 

tend to at rare cases of rare minds that the attention can 
once ? be so much diffused. It is probable that it can 

be bestowed upon two or three, and sometimes four things 
simultaneously. But it is admitted by those who hold this 
doctrine that the intensity of the attention is inversely as 
the number of objects, — that it would be impossible to 
bestow the same amount of attention upon each of three 
or four objects simultaneously present as upon one of them 
by itself. 

There are many illustrations, both of power of concen- 
tration which some men have possessed, and of the possible 
Remarkable plurality of simultaneous objects of attention, 
instances of It is said that Julius Caesar, while writing a des- 
concentra- patch, could at the same time dictate four others 
tion " to his secretaries, and if he did not write himself, 

could dictate seven letters at once. But this was before 



A TTENTION. 41 

the invention of the modern shorthand ! Napoleon had the 
same wonderful power of directing his whole mental energy 
to one point, and of rapidly shifting it to another. 

I have spoken of attention as being voluntary, and there- 
fore involving acts of the will. This, perhaps, needs con- 
siderable modification. There are undoubtedly Attention as 
very many instances in which attention is invol- acts ofthe 
untary, when it is compelled sometimes contrary wil1 - 
to the desire of the individual. A vivid flash of lightning, 
the sudden discharge of a gun near one, any 
extraordinary spectacle, either attractive by its sometimes 
beauty, or repulsive by its deformity, any un- com P elled - 
natural, or perilous, or magnificent, or revolting, object of 
vision, or event, is likely to command the attention. 

For the most part, however, the attention, even when 
not the result of a direct effort of the will, is so far under 
the control of the will that it may be withheld But for the 
from an object towards which it would other- deTcontroiof 
wise spontaneously go forth. But there is also the will. 
a kind of attention which is the direct product of the will. 
The mind is sometimes compelled by itself to attend to 
things to which it is naturally averse. Here there is a 
positive effort of the mind for this purpose. Only minds 
of unusual power can put forth this effort in certain 
cases for any considerable length of time. 

Hamilton has the following concerning the three degrees 
or kinds of attention : " The first is a mere vital and irre- 
sistible act ; the second, an act determined by TT .,, , 

J Hamiltons 
desire, which, though involuntary, may be re- three degrees 

sisted by our will ; the third, an act determined 

by deliberate volition.'" 

We have all along been considering attention as the con- 



42 PSYCHOLOGY. 

centration of the mind on some particular object, whether 
external or internal. Of course it has to do with sense- 
perception only as the object is external. Some writers 
have given two different names to the exercise of this power, 
Reflection as according as it was directed to objects within or 
from n a g tten h . ed without ; in the former case calling it Attention, 
tion. and in the latter Reflection. Others have used 

the general term Attention in both cases, and have called it 
Reflection when its objects were internal, and Observation 
when they were external. But there is no uniformity of 
usage, and the general term Attention is used for this 
whole action of the mind, though Reflection, I think, is 
rarely used, except when we turn our special attention to 
ourselves ; while Observation is commonly used with refer- 
ence to both the objective and subjective world. We shall 
find in other departments of the intellect abundant oppor- 
tunities for attention in the world of thought, as well as 
in that of sense. 



THE INNER-SENSE. 43 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE INNER-SENSE. 



The cognitions and the phenomena we have been con- 
sidering in the previous chapters are those which pertain 
to the world external to the soul, the world with which we 
come into communication through the senses. There is 
another group of cognitions and phenomena internal 
totally different from these. The phenomena Phenomena, 
of the soul itself are just as palpable, if not so familiar to 
the individual, as those of the external world. We have 
sensations, perceptions, various forms of mental activity, all 
kinds of pleasures and pains, hope and fear, desire and 
aversion, pity, contempt, anger, joy and sorrow. We have 
preferences and choices, determinations and volitions. No 
one disputes that we know all these phenomena quite as 
well as, perhaps we may say better than, we know anything 
in the external world. It is also clear that we Knownnot b y 
do not know them through the means by which the same 
we cognize the latter. We cannot hear, touch, know exter- 
see, smell, or taste a thought or a feeling or a na t ings " 
volition. None of the five senses, nor all of them combined, 
can apprehend a joy or a sorrow of the soul. They are 
not necessary cognitions which are given by the constitu 
tion of the mind itself upon the proper occasions. There 
must be, then, some other means by which we come into 
possession of this knowledge. 

There is less disagreement among writers concerning 



44 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the fact and character of this faculty and its functions, 
The name of than about the name. The term popularly used 
this faculty, f or this faculty is Consciousness, and this has so 
strong a position in the custom of speakers and writers that 
it is hard to dislodge it. Still there are very few authori- 
This a re- ties who do not freely admit that this is a re- 
«?"iS!i««t stricted use of the term, and that it has a wider 

of conscious- ' 

ness. meaning than is here implied. Clearly enough 

Consciousness is not confined to any one kind of knowledge, 
or to any one group of ideas. It has to do with all knowl- 
edge, and, indeed, with all the activities and susceptibilities 
of the mind. 

Another term which has been given is Self-Consciousness. 
This, while avoiding a part of the inconsistency involved 
,,„ ,„ in the preceding term, is still objectionable, from 

Self-con- , j. , ,-f . , , » , - 

sciousness" the tact that Consciousness, whether of sell or 
criticised. £ no t- se lf, is not the direct organ or faculty of 
any original knowledge, but is the concomitant of all 
The concomi- knowledge and all other mental operations. We 
tantofaii are conscious of no kind of knowledge, only as 
and all men- that knowledge is given by its appropriate organ, 
tai states. an( j ^ mus t logically, at least, be given through 
some other organ before it is present in consciousness. 
Hence we are not conscious of the operations of our minds, 
except as we know these in some other manner than by 
consciousness itself. 

Another name for this faculty is Internal Perception. This 
seems to me a very suitable term, and expresses the function 
"internal °^ the faculty very well, only that certain emi- 
perception." nen £ authorities strenuously object to the use 
of the term perception in relation to any knowledge, ex- 
cept that received from the external world. I do not see 



THE INNER-SENSE. 45 

the full force of this objection ; still, as very few make use of 
this designation, it must for the present be left in abeyance. 

The term to which there is the least exception appears 
to be the Inner-Sense. This is not satisfactory, for the reason 
that it gives us only the name of the faculty, 
and not of the function it possesses. It has sense "the 
no corresponding adjective. As a sort of J^*^ e {^ t 
antithesis to sense-perception, which is some- not wholly 
times called the outer-sense, it will answer per- 
haps better than any other which has as yet been devised. 

Of this faculty it may be said, in the first place, that 
within its sphere it is quite as authoritative as sense-per- 
ception. If there be any difference between the of the highest 
two in this respect, it is in favor of the former, authority, 
because, as already intimated, even in perception our sen- 
sations as subjective states are to be tested by the Inner- 
Sense. If this gives us any reason to doubt concerning the 
sensation, the doubt will affect the character of our percep- 
tion. If we can have no absolute certainty from this source, 
we can have it nowhere. It is our sole reliance The sole reii- 
in almost the whole study of Psychology. The ance in psy- 
question of the existence and character of the 
soul's powers and susceptibilities are to be determined by 
this faculty. 

Much of what we have said concerning Attention applies 
to this faculty and its processes. As in sense-perception, so 
here, the mind can concentrate itself on a single Relation to 
psychical operation or state, and it is by this attention, 
operation protracted for a longer or shorter time that some 
of the most important of mental problems have been solved. 
The philosophical use of this faculty is one that comes by 
culture, and it may be increased to a very great extent. 



46 PSYCHOLOGY. 

It is a question of some importance as to whether the 

Inner-Sense takes cognizance of all the operations of the 

mind. This is not the same as whether we are 

Does the in- . „ .. . . , , 

ner-sense conscious oi all out knowledge, since we make a 
take cogm- definite distinction between Consciousness in its 

zance of all 

our mental scientific meaning, and the Inner-Sense. There 

states ? 

are good authorities on both sides of the ques- 
tion. There are also facts which seem to bear in both 
directions. We take the familiar example which almost 
every person so readily understands. We sit in a room 
Sensations reading, with no disturbing influence ; the clock 
but noTob- strikes ; we take not the slightest note ; as we 
served. sa y, it does not attract our attention ; appar- 

ently it does not affect our mind; the Inner-Sense gives no 
intimation of any change. Still it is clearly possible that 
the faculty did take note of the phenomenon. We cannot 
doubt that the sensation of sound was produced within the 
mind. To do so would be to deny that the same cause 
under the same circumstances always produces the same 
effect. Did, then, the Inner-Sense for some reason fail to 
cognize the sensation ? That it did not, is evident from 
the fact that when by any means the attention is called to 
the fact, not too long afterwards, there is frequently a vague 

and yet not a really doubtful recollection that 
bettering 01 " the clock did strike, and that we heard it ; but 
that the m- as our attention was only feebly called towards 
does cognize it, and as the duration of the memory is propor- 
not a partic°u- S tioned to the intensity of the attention, it was 

lariy almost immediately forgotten. That is the rea- 

notice. , . . . , 

son why it is only in the cases where the subse- 
quent attention is called very quickly after the event that 
there is even a vague recollection. Nearly the same thing 



THE INNER-SENSE. 47 

is true here as in the case of Perception (see pp. 37, 38), 
where I showed that though it would be naturally pre- 
sumed that no perception had taken place, yet by com- 
parison with other mental facts we found that such must 
have been the fact. It is no doubt true that in the action 
both of the outer and of the inner sense there is actual 
cognition in many instances when a superficial considera- 
tion would indicate there was none. But whether this is 
so in all cases, is not quite so clear. 

It is probable, on the whole, that there are states of the 
mind which are not cognized by the Inner-Sense, but it is 
also probable that these are not proper objects 
of knowledge ; just as there are conditions of som e states 
external objects exposed to our senses, which we °£* cognized 
do not perceive. These may be passive states, by the inner- 
perhaps of potentiality, not active nor actual in- 
stances of knowing or feeling or willing, of which we are 
not aware. Take as a single case, memory — what Ham- 
ilton calls the retentive element of this faculty. The 
knowledge of previous facts is said to be retained in the 
mind. But how retained ? It may be that for weeks or 
months they are not in the mind in the sense of actual 
knowledge. But the mind has such a relation to them 
that they may be reproduced when the necessary condi- 
tions arise. Then the Inner-Sense cognizes this reminis- 
cent action. Now, there may have been a state of mind 
indicated by the expression " retained in the mind, 1 ' of 
which the Inner-Sense took no note, because it was not a 
proper object of knowledge. I think there is no act of real 
knowledge in the mind which is not itself cognized by this 
faculty. Whether there are other active states of which it 
is not cognizant, I should hesitate to assert or deny. 



48 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VII. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

This term, as popularly accepted, and as used by many 
writers, lias already been briefly discussed. It has been 
Popular and seen that, as thus used, it symbolizes only a 
£?of°t£e iCal sma11 P art of what is implied in its complete 
term. meaning. It no doubt comprises a knowledge 

of the operations of the soul, but only as it comprises a 
knowledge of the material world. In neither case does it 
give these cognitions by itself alone, but only as they are 
immediately or mediately known in some other way. 

There is much difference of opinion among philosophers 
on this subject. Scarcely any two agree in their treat- 
Different ment of it, while some are either inconsistent 
views of in their own statements concerning it, or vague 
and unsatisfactory. Indeed, it would be difficult 
to find a writer on this subject who has been thoroughly 
consistent with himself. 

" "Whatever Consciousness may be, there are three char- 
acteristics attributed to it by common consent, and these 

it must have. The first is, as its etymology, 
Three char- ... 

acteristics of con-scio, implies, it can never be alone. It must 

admitt°ed S by SS a ^ wa y s accompany some other operation of the 

nearly all mind, and does in fact equally accompany all 

mental operations. The second characteristic is 

that it must be infallible. It must be something that never 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 49 

does or can deceive us. In this all are agreed, for, if our 
consciousness can deceive us, there is nothing between us 
and universal scepticism. The third characteristic is that 
consciousness is not a separate faculty. A separate faculty 
has its own domain, and is subject to the will. It is not a 
faculty, but is involuntary ; it is alike in all the race, and 
is a necessary concomitant with all mental acts of which 
we know anything. It has an equal and common relation 
with all the faculties." 1 

The formula of those who give consciousness the nar- 
rower meaning is, "I know that I know." Sir William 
Hamilton says that consciousness differs from The f ormu i a 

knowledge in this, that in knowledge we know, of conscious- 

, . ° . , ,, , , nessinthe 

and m consciousness we know that we know, narrower 

But if there is need of a separate power to sense> 

know that Ave know, we might need an additional power 

to know that we know that we know, and so on objection to 

ad infinitum. Doubtless we have the fullest this formula. 

assurance possible of our knowledge in the fact that we 

really know, and in the very act of knowing. Moreover, 

there is no more need of consciousness to assure us of the 

knowledge that we know, than of the knowledge that we 

enjoy and suffer, or that we propose and determine. This 

is universally admitted. It is also admitted that there is 

just as much need of such a power to assure us of the 

knowledge we have of external things, as of the Hamilton's 

operations of our minds. Sir William Hamilton doctrine that 

W& 3X6 con* 

goes further, and asserts that we are not only sciousofail 
conscious of this outward and inward knowl- thatVe^ 
edge, but that we are also conscious of the know - 
things known, as well as of the fact of knowing them. In 

1 President Hopkins : Outline Study of Man. 



50 PSYCHOLOGY. 

this way he gets the evidence of consciousness for the reality 
of an external world. I perceive a tree ; I am conscious not 
only of the perception, but I am also conscious of the tree. 
But, as Dr. Hopkins remarks, u This is to confound con- 
sciousness with perception." Any one who would deny 
the authority of perception would be pretty likely to deny 
the authority of consciousness. 

What, then, is Consciousness? Dr. Hopkins again comes 
to our aid with the most unexceptionable definition I have 
Dr. Hopkins's seen. According to him, consciousness is " the 
definition. knowledge of the mind of itself as the permanent 
and indivisible subject of its own operations, ," 1 This will give 
The proper us the formula of consciousness, not " I know 
formula. that I know," but, " I know that it is I that 
know, and I know that it is the same I that knows, that 
also feels and wills.' 1 " This knowledge of self as the 
subject and centre of mental operations will have no refer- 
ence to the validity or trustworthiness of those operations. 
We have our faculties. We know by perception, we know 
by memory. We know immediately, we know mediately ; 
but if our faculty of knowledge, whatever it be, does not 
suffice to itself, it cannot be supplemented by conscious- 
ness. That has another field. It has another sphere. Its 
Physical office is to bind all the operations of the mind 
analogy. j n t unity. It does for the mind just what the 
cellular tissue does for the body. . . . The cellular mem- 
brane is found in connection with every part of the body. 
It infolds, for instance, each fibre of the muscles. It is 
never by itself. It always accompanies something else, 
and is for the sake of something else ; and it gives unity 
to the body. And consciousness does the same thing for 

1 Outline Study of Man. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 51 

the mind. It is, as it were, its cellular membrane, com- 
bining everything connected with it into unity ; A uni f y i ng 
never found by itself, but always present in power, 
connection with every other mental operation. Hence, as 

I said, it is not a faculty. It is not under the 

i c ! -i-i T • i • i Not under 

control oi the will. It is not anything that control of 

comes to us in sense or degree through the ope- the wllL 
ration of the will. We have it from the beginning, we 
have it by necessity ; one man has it as much as another." 1 
This completes what is essential on the subject of the 
Presentative Faculty. It gives us two groups of cogni- 
tions : 1. Those that come by Sense-Perception, and 2. Those 
that are given by the Inner-Sense. The former comprise 
our knowledge of the external world, or world of matter ; 
and the latter, what we know of the internal world, or 
world of mind and soul. I have also discussed the topics 
of Attention and Consciousness, as being closely, though 
not exclusively, related to these faculties. 

1 Outline Study of Man. 



PART II. 



THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE REPRESENTATIVE FACULTY DESCRIBED. 

We have been hitherto occupied with Presentative 
Cognitions, or cognitions occasioned by the direct presenta- 
tion of phenomena to the mind. These phenomena, we have 
seen, are of two classes, physical or material, and mental or 
psychical. They are also given to us through two sets of 
faculties ; namely, Sense-Perception, and the Inner-Sense. 

There are many cognitions with which the mind is 
largely conversant, which come to us through other means 
than those just described. Some of these are Eecurrent 
recurrent ideas or conceptions, cognitions re- ideas and 
peated after having been previously present to 
the mind. Hence they are said to be re-presented, and the 
power through which they are thus brought back is called 
the Representative Faculty. It is defined by Dr. Thig 
Porter, as " the power to recall, represent, and of the mind 
reknow objects which have been previously 
known or experienced in the soul." 1 This power to re- 
produce is evidently a power of the mind itself, and hence, 
as Dr. Porter says, it essentially involves a Not re- 
creative or self-active power. It will be readily Material* 
inferred that this power is not limited to the phenomena, 
reproduction of sensible or material objects, but embraces 
as well the acts and products and experiences of the mind 
itself. 

1 The Human Intellect. 
55 



56 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Dr. Hopkins illustrates this tendency to reappearance, 
of objects once known to the mind, by the figure of a 
Dr. Hop- mental current perpetually flowing towards the 
^mental mind. It is true that this current is not made 
current." up exclusively of ideas previously in the mind, 
since as both the outer and inner senses are active, there 
will be new cognitions which present themselves along 
with the representative cognitions. But these latter ideas 
cannot be excluded in our waking hours, and probably not 
even when we are asleep. They press somewhat impera- 
tively upon the mind and must be recognized in greater 
or smaller degree. We may modify the current, we may 
so treat the cognitions which at any given moment offer 
themselves, that they shall suggest others than those which 
would have come in had the train not been interfered 
with ; but the current cannot be stopped. 

An important question here is, whether there are any 
laws governing this current, or whether the thoughts and 
L _ conceptions returning to the mind come at hap- 

erningthis hazard and in no discernible order. Clearly 
enough they do not come by mere chance, but 
in a regularly ordered way, and under the direction of 
laws which it is not difficult to determine. This brings us 
to the subject of the next chapter. 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 57 



CHAPTER II. 

LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 

Says Dr. Hickok, " The representatives of former ob- 
jects of consciousness, when they have fallen, as it were, 
into the memory, do not lie in this common Dr. Hickok's 
mental receptacle separately. They are as clus- ^dmustra- 
ters on the vine, attached one to another by tion. 
some law of connection peculiar to the case, and which 
has its general determination for all minds, and its partic- 
ular modifications for some minds. When one is called up 
in recollection it does not, therefore, come up singly, but 
brings the whole cluster along with it. This action of 
the mind to attach its representatives in the memory one 
to another is called Association, and may include a number 
of different modes in which such attachments are formed." 1 

Isaac Taylor thus defines Association of Ideas : " If 
several thoughts, or ideas, or feelings have been in the 
mind at the same time, afterwards, if one of Definition by 
these thoughts returns to the mind, some or Isaac Taylor, 
all of them will frequently return with it. This is called 
Association of Ideas." 2 In other words, the thought or idea 
that is now in your mind is there probably because a mo- 
ment ago another thought was there which was some way 
associated with this ; and the thought which will be in 
your mind a moment hence will probably be there because 
of its association with the one now in your mind. I say 

! Science of the Mind. 2 Elements of Thought. 



58 PSYCHOLOGY. 

probably, because some idea may have been presented 
through the senses or the Inner-Sense, and thus is not rep- 
resentative. But aside from ideas newly presented, every- 
"Sugges- thing that comes back to the mind is suggested, 
tion." as we sa y 5 by S ome preceding idea. We fre- 

quently ask ourselves, " What made me think of that ? " 
plainly implying that we are settled in the opinion that 
something, and clearly something just previously in the 
mind, was the occasion of the representation of the 
thought in question. 

The Laws of Association are of two kinds, Primary and 
Secondary. Of the former, the first in order is Contiguity 
of Place. If, in a certain place, a piece of 
of laws of special good fortune befalls me, or a pain- 
association. M accident occurS) i s h a n be very likely to 

recall that incident or experience whenever I revisit that 
Contiguity of place- This is the reason why special interest 
P lace - attaches to certain places as being associated 

with events, though not at all interesting in themselves. 
Plymouth Rock and its immediate surroundings are not 
in themselves particularly attractive, but thousands every 
year are drawn to the spot because of the events which 
took place there two hundred and seventy years ago. The 
field of Waterloo is a fine piece of agricultural country, 
which, when I saw it, was covered with bounteous crops, 
but having nothing of interest in itself to distinguish it 
from thousands of other farming regions of similar extent. 
But it is visited by multitudes who associate it with one 
of the most important events in modern history. It is 
because of this principle in our constitution that we like to 
visit the homes of great men of the past. The home of 
Washington, at Mount Vernon ; the house in which Goethe 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 59 

was born in Frankfort; the place where John Huss lodged 
during- his attendance on the Council of Con- 

... . Interest in 

stance ; the old, and, m itself, very unattractive the homes of 
cottage where Shakespeare first saw the light, & reatmen - 
— ■ all these are cherished with the prof oundest interest by 
multitudes of persons. 

The second of these principles of Association is that of 
Time. Whenever we observe two events transpiring at the 
same time, and afterwards recall one of them, 
we are very likely to think of the other. When 
we meet two persons at the same time, especially if they 
are somewhat important persons, and perhaps strangers, 
or partially so to us, and afterwards see one of them alone, 
we are almost sure to think of the other. It is this prin- 
ciple that causes us to recall persons and events why we re- 
in groups. If in our reading we come across ca ^P6 rs ° ns 
the name of Pericles, instantly there arise in our in groups, 
minds not only such names as Socrates, Plato, Phidias, 
Sophocles, Euripides, Themistocles, Aspasia, and Cleon, 
but many wonderful events of that remarkable period, as 
well as the glory and grandeur of the famous city where 
these persons dwelt, and where the events transpired. 
Hence the value to the student in history, of importance 
the habit of fixing in his mind certain great * othestu - 

o _ to dent of 

events and personages, each of which is the history. 
centre of other events and personages which naturally 
associate themselves with these. Such a habit will give 
not only facility but pleasure to the pursuit of this study. 
The third of these principles is that of Resemblance. 
When we cognize an object or person or event of 

-, . t , . t , n ; n , . Eesemblance. 

any kind which resembles another, we are apt im- 
mediately to think of that other. TPhis resemblance may 



60 PSYCHOLOGY. 

be merely physical ; or it may be mental and moral, that 
is, of character ; or it may be a resemblance of relations 
instead of qualities and appearances. It is in this way 
Formation tna * we sometimes form types. We say of a re- 
of types. markable military chieftain, that he is the Napo- 
leon of his age ; or of an unselfish and patriotic leader of 
his people, that he is the Washington of such a nation ; or 
of a certain cataract, that it is a miniature Niagara. This 
principle is largely effective in metaphor and simile, and 
other tropical and poetic representations in literature. 

The fourth principle is that of Contrast. This, though 
the opposite of resemblance, is closely allied to it as a sug- 
gestive principle. We frequently find an idea 
which calls up one altogether contrary to it. If 
we are suffering from cold, we often think of the enjoy- 
ment of comfortable warmth. A perception of some de- 
formity leads to the contemplation of objects of beauty. I 
recollect once hearing a company of singers who were giv- 
ing an exhibition, and whose music was quite otherwise 
than attractive or inspiring. I was forcibly reminded of a 
musical service to which I had not long before listened in 
the Dresden Cathedral, which was delightful and grand 
beyond all description. Contrast as suggestive of ideas may 
be, like that of resemblance, of the outward appearance, 
or of inward dispositions, or of consequences and results. 

Another principle is that of Cause and Effect. These 
terms are correlative, and, as such, imply each other. It 
Cause and ^ s one °^ the most obvious of our mental charac- 
effect. teristics, when an event occurs, to inquire the 

cause, spontaneously and intuitively assuming that there 
must be a cause. The veriest child is always asking ivhy 
this and that came to pass ; that is, inquiring for the cause, 






LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 61 

if it be not obvious. So, too, if we observe any manifes- 
tation of power, any conspicuous activity, we Cause _ 
naturally think of the effect. Especially is this s ests effect, 
true when we are familiarly acquainted with the causes 
or effects of certain observed phenomena. One suggests 
the other as inevitably as one thing follows another in any 
naturally arranged order of things. It is in this way that 
many trains of thought go on in our minds. I see, for 
instance, in a list of names, that of Martin Luther. I im- 
mediately think of the vast series of consequences which 
followed from his personal influence, the historical events 
which resulted from his action, the mighty changes wrought 
in the past, and still in progress. Or I may go back and 
readily call up the causes which operated to produce this 
man and fashion his career, and to call forth his reforma- 
tory efforts. So of a thousand other incidents in history. 

Means and End form another pair of correlatives in 
thinking of one of which the other is liable to come up in 
the mind. To think of a locomotive without Means and 
associating it with the moving of a train of end - 
cars, of a dam without the detention of water to form a 
head or power, or to conceive of a foundation aside from 
the edifice resting upon it, is scarcely possible. 

These six principles of Association appear to be suffi- 
cient to account for all the phenomena involved. Certain 
writers have added others, as follows: Objects These prin- 
or events produced by the same power suggest association 
one another and the power concerned. The sufficient to 

n it account for 

sign and the thing signified are so closely asso- all the phe- 
ciated in the mind that ideas of the one are Je^esenta- 
likely to be followed by those of the other, and tion - 
vice versa. Objects accidentally designated by the same 



62 PSYCHOLOGY. 

sound operate in the same way, and thus the amuse- 
ment that many persons get out of the not very re- 
fined practice of punning. But probably each of these 
latter principles can be brought under one or another of 
those previously given. On the other hand it 
duction of" has been claimed that these principles can be 
principles reduced to a smaller number than those given 
to a smaller in detail. A considerable portion of the writ- 
ers on Psychology agree in putting them all in 
three groups ; namely, Time and Place, Cause and Effect, 
Resemblance and Contrast. Others have reduced them to 
two : Affinity and Simultaneity. Some high authorities 
teach us that they may all be comprehended under one ; 
namely, the law of Redintegration. This is expressed in 
the formula that " a part of a mental state tends to bring 
back and restore all the parts that compose it." Dr. Por- 
Dr. Porter's ter, while admitting that most of the princi- 
objection. pi es f association which we have spoken of as 
treated separately can be brought under this law of Red- 
integration, yet shows that it is at least exceedingly 
doubtful in some cases. For instance, in the case of 
resemblance, the parts which are assumed as parts of the 
same whole are not identical parts, but similar parts, and 
hence will not allow oi Redintegration. As, for instance, 
when we see a horse, and then on seeing another horse we 
observe some feature in the latter which resembles a corre- 
sponding feature in the former. This calls up the horse 
previously seen. But that which calls up this absent ob- 
ject is not some part of it, but a resemblance of that part, 
which semblance is yet a part of another and not of the • 
same. 

Dr. Porter proposes to bring these principles all under 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 63 

one law of another kind, which he thus states : " The 
mind tends to act again more readily in a man- 
ner or form which is similar to any in which it the mind to 

has acted before, in any defined exertion of its act .J nawa y 
J _ _ similar to a 

energy." This statement is obviously true, but former ac- 
it is doubtful if it accounts for all the phenom- 
ena of association. For instance, as Dr. Hopkins says, " I 
see in it no more reason why, if I pass the place where I 
met a friend yesterday, I should think of him Dr Ho _ 
then and there, than at any other time and place, kms's b- 
If the tendency be there, independent of circum- J c lon ' 
stances, it would be as likely to show itself at one time 
as another; but if it depends on circumstances, we are 
thrown back upon the original law, having simply that 
and whatever tendency may be implied in our having a 
representative faculty at all." 

We have so far been speaking of the Primary Principles 
of Association. There are also Secondary Principles. Ac- 
cording to these, ideas and objects tend to sug- secondary 
gest one another in proportion as the following ofTssocia- 
conditions exist. 1. The vividness with which tion - 
objects are presented to the mind affects the readiness of 
their recurrence. Some events possess little or no inter- 
est for us. These would not be readily repro- vividness of 
duced. Others, as a piece of unexpected good ""g^. 1 ^ 
news, or some startling phenomena, come back tion. 
more easily and more clearly. How often do we hear 
persons, describing some unusually exciting occurrence or 
very impressive event, say, " I shall never forget it so 
long as I live ! " 

2. Events more recent are more apt to return to the 
mind. Thus what we have seen or heard within a day or 



64 PSYCHOLOGY. 

two is more likely to recur to us than the same kinds of 
Recent events which took place six months or a year 

events. a g 0> This and the preceding principle, however, 

it will easily be seen, modify each other. The greater 
vividness often makes up for the lapse of time, and so 
sometimes an occurrence of yesterday is forgotten where 
Why aged one °f a month or a year ago is distinctly re- 
persons re- called. It is in this way that we account for 
call events J ■,■,.-, 

of their the fact that aged persons recall with remarka- 

notthose 1 D ^ e distinctness experiences of fifty or sixty 
more recent. y ears ago, while they are totally oblivious of 
events of the same importance which transpired within a 
month or even a week. The reason of this is that in our 
earlier years our minds are more impressible, while in old 
age both our faculties and our susceptibilities become 
dulled and the impression of the same event is vastly less 
in the latter case than it would have been in the former. 

3. Frequent repetition of an experience, whether of 
observation or of some subjective action tends to promote 
Frequent its easy recurrence. This is the reason why it 
repetition. ^ s profitable for young pupils to go over their 
tasks frequently in preparation for their recitations, and 
why reviews are essential in order to prepare one for 
examinations. 

4. Peculiarities of mental character have much to do 
with the readiness or otherwise with which certain pre- 
Pe li it'es v i° us states of the mind reappear. We are 
of mental differently constituted, and that, too, in many 

respects. Some have an aptitude for mathemat- 
ical studies, others have a taste for philosophy and science, 
others still are characterized by predominance of aesthetic 
sentiment, and others tend towards the practical. It is 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 65 

said of one man who had read Milton's " Paradise Lost," 
that he didn't think it of much value, as it proved nothing. 
Wordsworth says, — 

" To me, the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 

While of the clown the same poet says, — 

" A primrose by a river's brim, 
A yellow primrose was to him, 
And it was nothing more." 

We can readily see that with minds differing so widely and 

so variously in predispositions, tastes, and aptitudes, there 

must be a correspondingly wide difference in the character 

of the associations, and consequently of the mental current. 

5. In general, whatever tends to fix the attention, whether 

in any of the ways previously mentioned, or in . er 

any other way, will affect the order and deter- to fix the 
, , ,. , , . attention, 

mine the manner ot representation. 

We can by no means always trace the causes of succes- 
sive suggestions by which any given subject reappears in 
the mind at a given time. We frequently find Difficult to 
ourselves dwelling on a topic, and we are some- ^JL** 

£> . causes of 

how led to ask ourselves, " How did we come to suggestions, 
think of this ? " It may be that by careful effort we are able 
to discern the occasion of its coming, and that, too, when 
at first it may appear to have come causelessly. But in 
other cases, search as diligently as we may, we cannot de- 
tect the slightest connection between the present thought 
and any previous one. This probably arises from the fact 
that the subject which suggested the one noticed was too 
unimportant or evanescent to attract the attention, and be 
retained by the memory, though sufficient to form a connect- 
ing link in the series. It vanished from the mind as soon 



GQ PSYCHOLOGY. 

as it arose, and was quickly crowded out of consciousness 
by thoughts of greater importance. Sir William Hamilton, 
as we have seen, would regard many of these links as men- 
tal acts or states of which we are unconscious. But this 
seems hardly necessary. 

We have been speaking of these principles of Association 
as Laws, — natural laws, — and as such there must be in 
„,, ' them a large element of necessitv. So far as 

These prin- o J 

cipiss are this is the case, the order of our thoughts in 
representation is not subject to the free action 
of the mind. Still we are conscious of a power at least 
partially determining their order. It therefore becomes 
How far and a matter of some interest to inquire how far 

in what man- anc [ ^ n w ] ia t manner the mind, can influence 

ner can the 

soul influence the order of representation. In the first place, 

represent- ^ can have no direct influence. Obviously 
tion? enough the mind cannot choose what idea or 

object shall present or represent itself to the mind, for the 
simple reason that such choice cannot be made unless the 
objects among which the choice is to be made are already 
present to the mind. Hence the order must be determined 
previously by some other power than that of the mind. 
There are natural laws in accordance with which the repre- 
sentation takes place, and there are causes operating which 
belong to our constitution, and which are not implied in 
the voluntary action of the mind. 

Still, the mind has a certain power over the current or 
train of thought, affecting it not directly, but indii'ectly. 
The mind has While certain thoughts will, independently of 



an indirect the mind's action, present themselves, it is com- 
troi or modi- petent for the mind to meet them at the thresh- 
fication. ]^ an( i g,^ ve ^ s attention to certain of these 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 67 

rather than others, and so detain some for special consid- 
eration, while others pass on into oblivion. By thus 
detaining a certain idea and looking at it more particularly, 
this very process may call up new objects and trains of 
thought, which would never have come but for this volun- 
tary action of the mind. Thus there may, in the natural 
order, occur to me a thought of Bunker Hill ; this may 
suggest to me the monument there, and this, Webster's ora- 
tion at the laying of the corner-stone, and this the career of 
the great orator and statesman, and this lead off to other 
orators and men of powerful intellect. Or I may detain 
the idea of the first suggestion instead of letting my mind 
run on spontaneously, and may by force of will compel my- 
self to attend to the event the monument was designed to 
commemorate, the fierce battle, the encouragement which 
the stubborn and effective resistance gave men in defeat, 
and thus follow the whole history of the war, or any 
portion of it, till some other incident presents itself upon 
which I may think fit to dwell. In this way we may come 
to have great control over our thoughts, and turn them to 
higher or lower meditations, as we please. Of course, to 
be always pursuing a profitable and wholesome Effort and 
line of thought requires effort and much culture, discipline 
but we so fully recognize this as practicable that do^b^ef- 
we do not hesitate to condemn a man who lets fectuall y- 
his mind run perpetually on low and unworthy themes, or to 
commend one who has habituated himself to elevated and 
wholesome thinking. We can also, by foresight and mode- 
rate skill, determine the associations which decide what 
our trains of thought shall be. This, much more than we 
can estimate, has to do with the style of men or women we 
shall be, and the kind of characters we shall have. 



68 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE FORMS WHICH THE REPRESENTATIVE 
PRODUCT ASSUMES. 

There are three forms which Representation assumes in 
the mind ; namely, Fantasy, Memory, and Imagination. 

By Fantasy is meant the power which the mind has of 
forming images of objects which have been previously pre- 
Fantasy sented to it, these images being wholly severed 
defined. from all relations of time and place. It is 

this latter feature which distinguishes it from Memory, 
to which the time element is essential. It is distin- 
Howdistin- guished from Imagination in that the latter is 
gmshed from cons tructive and in a sense creative. It is also 

memory and 

imagination. i ess under the control of the will, and is not 
subject to judgment nor guided by taste. It is the char- 
acteristic of undisciplined minds, or of those relaxed and 
freed from restraint, though not confined to these. It is 
active in reverie, and becomes predominant in disturbed 
sleep or half-waking conditions, in dreams and somnambu- 
lism: as also in children and savages. In all 

Images come ° 

and go spon- these conditions here implied, the images come 
aneous y. ^^ ^ more or less and sometimes entirely at 
random and hap-hazard, frequently in utter chaotic confu- 
sion and with the strangest mixture of elements. The 
term fantastic both etymologically and appropriately ex- 
presses many of the products of this form of representa- 
tion. Sometimes under the influence of certain bodily 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 69 

conditions the representations are most disagreeable and 
painful ; but sometimes also they are just the opposite. 

The word Fancy is in its origin a synonyme of Fantasy. 
But recently and in its more popular use it has a some- 
what wider range, and in philosophy it has a i- ancyan d 
meaning somewhat distinct from that just now fan tasy. 
assigned to Fantasy. But the terms are not radically dif- 
ferent. Fancy " collects materials for the Imagination ; 
therefore the latter presupposes the former, while the for- 
mer does not necessarily suppose the latter." * Whether 
Fantasy or Fancy, it is a power by which images of indi- 
vidual objects formerly perceived are re-presented to the 
mind, usually without perceptible effort of the Words . 
will. Wordsworth says, Fancy " does not re- worth's 
quire that the materials she makes use of should 
be susceptible of change in their constitution from her 
touch ; and where they admit of modification, it is enough 
for her purpose, if it be slight, limited, and evanescent." 

MEMORY 

It is one of the facts with which all are familiar, 
that the mind has the power to retain cogni- The mind's 
tions of which it has come into possession ^etlincoff- 
— or, as it may be more fully stated, the mind nitions. 
has the power of returning to states in which it has 
formerly been, with a clear consciousness that they 
are recurrences of former states. It is held by not a 
few writers of note, that no cognition, or thought, or 
feeling, or mental action of any sort which has ever 
existed, can ever so far be lost as that it may No co?n i t i on 
not under certain conditions recur. We do wholly lost, 
certainly know that a very great number of our mental 

1 Dugald Stewart. 



70 PSYCHOLOGY. 

experiences return to us, and that too sometimes, when, 
owing to their trivial character, or the long lapse of time, 
it would seem most unlikely. This characteristic of the 
mind we call Memory. 

There are two functions of Memory ; namely, Conserva- 
tion or Retention, which has in part been already described, 
Twofunc- anc ^ wn i° n Sir William Hamilton regards as 
tions of Memory proper, and Reproduction ; Hamilton 

memory. &&$& ^ q Representation. But Representation 
is a generic term including not only Conservation and Re- 
production, but all kinds of recurring mental experiences. 

Reproduction is either spontaneous or voluntary. In both 
r roduc- cases it proceeds under the laws of Association, 
tionoftwo Spontaneous Reproduction is when the previous 
thought recurs to the mind through the opera- 
tions of the general laws of Association, without effort or 

c volition on the part of the subiect. It is dis- 

Spontaneous r •> 

reproduc- tiiiguished from Fantasy only by the recognition 

guishedfrom of the element of time, that is, of the fact that the 

fantasy. state of mind has been previously experienced. 

Voluntary Reproduction or Reminiscence occurs when an 

effort is made to recall some thought or cognition of the 

past. Everv one is familiar with the fact that 
Voluntary ? 

reproduc- frequently when we have a part, or some inti- 
mation, of a former presentation in mind, we 
seek to reproduce the whole ; as, for instance, having dis- 
tinctly in mind a person or*place, we endeavor to re- 
cover the name, which has escaped us, and which, as we 
say, we have forgotten; or knowing the name, possibly, 
we strive to bring back the object. This we do by com- 
pelling certain associations which if left to themselves 
would take another direction ; or by concentrating the 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 71 

mind upon certain suggestions when others would occur 
if left to spontaneity. In the one case we follow the gen- 
eral connection existing among associated ideas and the 
line of easy and natural suggestion ; in the other by an 
energetic effort we select such associations as are likely to 
lead to the recognition desired. This is commonly called 
Becollection, as in it we re-collect the missing elements 
which make up the entire representation. Of 
course, it is obvious that we cannot recall that 
of which the mind has no knowledge whatever. When, 
for instance, I try to recall a name of which the object is 
already present to my mind, or an object of which the 
name is present, I already know that there is a name or an 
object, as the case may be. There is always something 
some way related to that which we desire to recall, and 
from this the association must proceed. 

VARIETIES OF MEMORY. 

There are wide differences in the memory of different 
individuals. These differences are in respect of both kind 
and power. Some remember words and names 
with great facility, others retain these but feebly, 
while they recall things readily. One man will easily recog- 
nize a face he has once seen or a person he has previously 
known, while it is with great difficulty he can recollect the 
name. Another class of persons retain and reproduce cir- 
cumstances and events with remarkable accuracy and 
minuteness. The last is likely to be the case with uned- 
ucated persons. Such a memory has been called circumstan- 
Circumstantial. Others still have a logical or tial memory- 
scientific memory. They recall the thought or principle 
connected with the object, and thus recollect the latter. 



72 PSYCHOLOGY. 

This difference depends much upon the habit and character 
of association which one cultivates. The peculiarities of 
the several laws of association are also seen here. This is 
the case, especially, in the difference between circumstan- 
tial and logical memory. Uneducated people, not having 
the mind trained to systematic thinking, naturally associ- 
ate objects and events by the contiguity of time and space. 
They are likely to take in many concomitant particulars. 
In a representation of their reminiscences to others this 
often has a picturesque effect, but oftener it becomes 
tedious, diverting the attention from essential points. The 
Logical opposite is the case with philosophic minds, 

memory. They seize upon the reality rather than the ap- 
pearance, upon the thought rather than its embodiment. 
It has frequently been noted that while in the former case 
the memory is more ready, in the latter it is slower but 
more sure and confident. 

It is more difficult to determine the cause of a purely 
verbal memory. It is not impossible that the principle of 
association here is that of time and place. The sound of 
the word — less likely, its written form — is associated with 
the person or thing, and their association is more intense 
from the fact that there is no thought or principle to absorb 
any part of the mind. 

The variations in the power of memory are still more 
striking. We have instances of extraordinary tenacity 
Variations in wn i° n would be incredible were they not well 
the power of authenticated. It is related that Themistocles 

memory. -. 

knew every citizen of Athens, and that Cyrus 
could recognize every soldier of his great army. Horten- 
sius, it is said, could sit all day at an auction, and at 
evening could give an account from memory of every- 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 73 

thing sold, the purchaser, and the price. In modern times 
we have equal feats of the memory. Dr. Waller Extraordi . 
of Oxford on one occasion, at night, in bed, pro- nary in- 
posed to himself a number of fifty-three places, 
and found its square root to twenty-seven places, and, 
without writing down the number at all, dictated the result 
from memory twenty days afterward. "The librarian of 
the Duke of Tuscany would inform any one who consulted 
him, not only who had directly treated of any particular 
subject, but who had indirectly touched upon it while treat- 
ing of any other subject, to the number of perhaps one 
hundred and fifty authors, giving the name of the author, 
the name of the book, the words, often the page where they 
were to be found, and with the greatest exactness. It is 
said that a gentleman of Florence lent him a manuscript 
which he had prepared for the press, and some time after- 
ward went to him with a sorrowful face, pretending to have 
lost his manuscript by accident, and begging the librarian 
to recall what he could of it and write it down. He imme- 
diately set about it, and wrote out the entire manuscript, 
without missing a word. At one time the Grand Duke 
sent to him to inquire if he could procure a certain book 
which was very scarce. ' No, sir,' said the librarian ; ' there 
is but one copy in the world, that is in the Grand Seignior's 
library in Constantinople, and is the seventh book on the 
seventh shelf, on the right hand as you go in.' " 

It has been a largely prevalent opinion that great strength 
of memory is incompatible with a high degree of Powerfu i 

intellectuality. This is clearlv an error. There memory com- 

J J. t, patiblewith 

have been persons of extraordinary memory who high inteiiec- 

have had, at the same time, only moderate in- tuallt y- 

telligence and slender resources in the way of thought. 



(4 PSYCHOLOGY. 

This is especially true in some marked instances of verbal 
memory. But to leap from these isolated facts to the gen- 
eral conclusion that a good memory necessarily implies 
feeble intellectual action, is very poor reasoning. Scaliger, 
Grotius, Pascal, Leibnitz, Euler, Macaulay, and 
Hamilton, and a thousand others, each possessed 
an extraordinary memory, and were at the same time men 
of the greatest intellectual power. Let no student neglect 
any means of cultivating a good memory, under the im- 
pression that it will unfavorably affect his other faculties. 

CULTIVATION OF THE MEMORY. 

There is no doubt that the power of the memory can be 
greatly increased. It may also be impaired by neglect or 
Mnemonic misuse. I have not much faith in mnemonic sys- 
systems. terns. They are too artificial, and it has some- 
times seemed as if it required more outlay of mental energy 
to learn the system than to remember the facts and prin- 
ciples which it is presumed such a system^ids in recalling. 
Of late such devices have not been much in vogue. Just 
now, however, a new interest has sprung up in respect to 
means of cultivating the memory, which are supposed to 
promise valuable results. What the outcome will be, re- 
mains to be seen. 

But aside from these adventitious aids there are certain 

, f practical rules by which the memory itself may 

improving be essentially improved. The chief of these are 

the memory. P ni 

as follows : — 

1. Trust the Memory. It is believed by many that the 

memory of the ancient was much greater than that of the 

Trusting the modern scholars. The reason assigned is not 

memory. unnatural. Books were far less numerous then 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 15 

than now. For this reason, men were compelled to rely on 
their memoiy. Like some other powers of the mind, the 
more we demand of it the more freely and fully does it 
respond. It is true, however, that the memory may be 
overtaxed and thus impaired. For this reason trivial and 
useless things may be dismissed, or, at least, less effort 
should be made to retain them. 

2. The memory becomes more retentive as we give more 
Careful and Discriminating Attention to the subject under 
consideration. We do not readily recall those Carefu i at . 
things of which we do not have a clear appre- tention. 
hension. Hence the necessity of close and minute obser- 
vation. Any one who notes particularly the habits of 
students finds that in a very large proportion of the in- 
stances in which one is unable to recall what he supposes 
himself to have learned, it is because he has failed to get 
a good understanding of the matter. In some cases which 
have come under my own observation the defect even 
arose from the fact that the learner was a poor 

reader. Many, especially among young students, 
— and we may well wish it were confined to them — fail to 
get on with their studies simply because of their careless 
and slovenly habits of reading. They do not fairly take in 
the essential thoughts represented on the printed page. 

3. By Wise Habits of Association. This implies the power 
and practice of thorough analysis. There will naturally 
follow from this the grouping of particulars in 

logical and systematic order about general prin- 
ciples. This is essential to the command of many and 
complicated elements. For instance, a person may go 
into a large library knowing nothing about it systematic 
but the fact that there are ten or twenty or order - 



76 PSYCHOLOGY. 

fifty thousand volumes. He may look at a hundred dif- 
ferent books and spend hours in doing so. But, take 

whatever pains he may, he will carry away only 

Illustration. K . J \ J , J . J 

a chaotic impression 01 a multitude ot printed 

works, and nothing at all of the essential character of the 
collection. But let him know beforehand that these are 
arranged according to some general principle — it may be 
logical or geographical — let us suppose the former ; he 
now sees that in one alcove are placed all the mathemati- 
cal treatises under their various subdivisions ; in another 
all the historical works ; in another those on Natural Sci- 
ence under the several heads of Physics, Natural History, 
Mineralogy, Chemistry, etc. ; and in still others Metaphys- 
ics, Theology, Law, Physics, and Literature ; if he has 
paid any considerable degree of attention to their classifi- 
cation, he carries away an intelligent conception of the 
character of the library, and will be able to convey it to 
others. 

It is thus, by a proper and sensible discipline of the 
memory, that men become able writers ; not by thinking 
Relation to over a disconnected jumble of thoughts which 
writing and they would like to present to others, but by 
neous speak- classifying and systematizing these, so that the 
mg. mind can command them. This, too, is the 

power of memory which is essential to the extemporane- 
ous speaker. There are men whom we know who can 
speak two hours or more without notes, holding thousands 
with unflagging interest, not because they have memorized 
their topics, much less their words, but because they have 
so arranged their thoughts, that under the laws of associa- 
tion they naturally suggest one another, and so present 
themselves in the order in which they are wanted. A 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 77 

good memory, then, is not to be estimated at a low value, 
but as one of the greatest of our intellectual powers. 

Most persons realize in only a small degree the Importance 
of Memory. All who reflect will see at once how inconve- 
nient it would be if we had no memory, and 
what an advantage it is to carry along in our of memory 
mind the knowledge of many past events and aKzedby^ 6 
experiences. But Memory is very much more many per- 
than a convenience. It is absolutely essential 
to a very large proportion of all the operations of the intel- 
lect. Without Memory we could not reason, we could 
scarcely judge ; we could not converse ; we Relation to 
could not carry on mathematical or scientific anTjudg? 
investigations ; reading would be useless to us, men*- 
not merely as failing to be retained, but as failing also to 
give us even present information and entertainment. 
Business could not be transacted. The most 
ordinary workman must remember what he is 
to do and how to do it ; what he has already done and its 
relation to what is to be done, and a thousand other 

minute and apparently utterly unimportant 

• i-i • -i Business, 

items which nevertheless are essential to be 

kept in mind in the simplest undertaking. It is the key- 
stone of the intellectual arch, and without it, with all 
the other great powers of the soul, we should be scarcely 
more than the merest idiots. 

IMAGINATION. 

This is the third of the forms which Representative 
Cognition takes. It may be defined as the power to re- 
combine materials already in the mind, into new imagination 
ivholes. The difference between it and Fantasy defined - 



78 PSYCHOLOGY. 

has already been indicated. The difference between it and 
Generalization, or the formation of concept, is that in the 
latter case we form groups of objects just as they exist in 
nature and unite them by one or more similar qualities. 
But in Imagination we combine the several elements, not 
into, a group of individualities, but into a single mental indi- 
vidual, different from any one thing that is found in nature, 
— a product of the mind itself. The Imagination is a more 
positive force than either Fantasy or Memory, and more 
directly under the control of the will. It is, in an impor- 
a creative, tant sense, a creative power. It is not, as the 
not a mere W ord might seem to indicate, a mere image- 

lmage-mak- & ° 

ing power. making capabilitjr. As Dr. Hickok says, " The 
sense-constructions are properly images ; but they are prod- 
ucts of the Fancy, and not of the Imagination, which has 
higher and more complex work in hand." 

Imagination is of two grades. It may either simply re- 
combine the materials furnished into new forms, or it may 
form ideals, intimations of which exist in percep- 
tions or representations already before the mind, 
and actualize them in new constructions. Thus a painter 
whose imagination is of the former grade may, from a num- 
ber of beautiful faces, select such features of each as will 
answer his purpose, and combine them into a picture which 
will be like no one of them, but which will be more beauti- 
ful than any of them. This is an instance of the former 
and lower order of this faculty. It is little better than 
mechanical piece-work, and never comes up to the charac- 
ter of art in its proper sense. 

In the other kind of Imagination there is something 
more than recombination in the ordinary sense of that term. 
There are conceptions of new features suggested, doubt- 



FORMS OF REPRESENTA TION. 79 

less, by those already existing, as being fit complements of 
them in the structure contemplated, or desirable supple- 
ments. Thus in architecture, for instance, when the artist 

begins to plan his building-, there are present to 

i • • A u -1A- \ i The higher 

his mind many buildings whose general purpose kind of imag- 

is the same as that which he is to design. But s n u atlo e g tions 
as he arranges the parts of the intended struc- of new 
ture he thinks that a certain feature, not found 
in any of the others which he has seen, would add to its' 
beauty and convenience ; and he puts it in his plan, at first 
perhaps tentatively, and, after much modifying and shift- 
ing of positions and relations, settles upon its final arrange- 
ment as a part of the whole. This may be repeated in a 
variety of cases in the same building until the whole takes 
on a unique and original form, more admirable than any- 
thing which he has previously seen. The same process 
may characterize the painting of a picture, or the writing 
of a poem, or the composition of a piece of music. In 
the case of genius or even of a high order of talent, we thus 
have what is regarded as an original piece of work, some- 
thing in which not only the general effect is new and sur- 
prising, but each part seems to have been made for its 
particular relation to the whole. 

A striking illustration of this kind of Imagination may 
be found even in Mechanical Invention. Few probably are 
aware how large a part Imagination plays here. . ffi . 
Take, for instance, a mowing machine, or a mechanical 
machine for making mill-cards, or any other 
similar piece of mechanism. No one of these is constructed 
by taking parts of other machines and merely forming a 
new combination better than any of them. It is a new 
invention altogether. True, it may be of gradual develop- 



80 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ment, and it may be a long time coming to perfection. But 
usually the first contrivance is something wholly different 
from anything previously devised. Possibly the inventor 
How the new is first moved by the desire for some more rapid 
structure ^ wa y f gathering the grain, or making the cards, 
gested. than the old, slow method by hand. Or, pos- 

sibly, before any such desire has consciously risen in his 
mind, some accident suggests to him a means of diminish- 
ing the labor, or of more easily and rapidly accomplishing 
the work. He spends much time in thinking about it, but 
this thinking is always accompanied by an active Imagina- 
„ . tion. Little by little the instrument forms itself 

How imagi- ... 

nation works in his mind. At first it is only a part, perhaps 
a small part, of what will be needed to accom- 
plish after a moderate fashion what he proposes to effect 
with the new machine. But in quiet hours, perhaps of 
the night, when other men sleep, he imagines the whole 
thing, so far as it has progressed, in his mind, and works 
upon it there, rearranging and reconstructing it. He puts 
in an additional wheel, or takes out a superfluous one ; 
supplies a lever in one place, or a cog somewhere else ; 
and calculates how it will work, or whether it will work 
at all. The point here is, that at present it is a thing of 
the Imagination ; it is wholly in his mind, and he works 
upon it as a reality, while as yet it has no outward form. 
its embodi- At length, when he thinks it somewhere nearly 
ment. complete, he ventures on its embodiment in iron 

and brass and wood and leather, and is ready for actual 
experiment with it. It may prove a failure, but it is cer- 
tainly not always that, for we have hundreds of these 
children of the brain doing multifarious service in the pro- 
ductive industries of the world. 



FORMS OF REPRESENTATION. 81 

What I wish. to show here is that Imagination, and that 

of the higher order, is involved. Doubtless a combination 

of material in new forms is also implied, but 

. i • Something 

there is something incalculably more than this, very much 

The material in such cases exists in more or less JhTrMombi- 

approximatelv primitive forms, and the combi- nation of 

ma,terials» 

nation is of a kind that implies original powers 

far beyond that of the lower order first mentioned. While 

the product of the higher forms of Imagination 

is not creative in the extreme sense of that term, iatheTx- 76 

it is in the popular and more common sense. It trame sense, 

\ x yet it is in 

is not a modification or combination of products the ordinary 

previously existing, but it is to all practical sense ' 
intents an entirely new formation. 

It is not to be understood by what has just been said, 
that Imagination is either wholly or in part synonymous 
with Invention. They are distinct powers of the Htft 
mind. The latter has reference usually to the mous with in- 
production of something actual, while the former 
deals entirely with the ideal. Still they are closely asso- 
ciated, and neither operates in any way of large efficiency 
without the aid of the other. Even in the ideal construc- 
tions with which the mind is sometimes busy, invention 
occasionally plays an important part. While, on the other 
hand, in the great inventions of industrial art, the Imagina- 
tion is an indispensable agent. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER IV. 

RELATION OP THE IMAGINATION TO SOME OTHER 
FACULTIES. 

Memory and Imagination are alike in this respect, that 
they are both forms of Representation. But the former 
Memory and gives us objects as they actually were at some 
imagination, previous time ; the latter has to do with ideal 
objects. The former deals with the past ; the latter has 
no temporal limitations, — it disports itself alike in the past 
and in the future. 

Judgment differs from Imagination in that the former 

deals with the relations of things, and also that it has to do 

principally with actual relations ; while the lat- 
Judgment. J 

ter, as we have seen, deals wholly with ideals. 
Judgment has specific reference to truth, and nothing is 
really either true or false except Judgments, or, as they 
are called when expressed in language, propositions. But 
Imagination is not limited to what is true or real ; it 
extends itself to all that is possible or conceivable. Still 
a good Imagination is always accompanied by a sound 
Judgment. What is fitting and proper; what will best 
convey the ideas in the mind ; or what will most correctly 
and properly fill out the representation, — -these are largely 
matters of Judgment. The products of the Imagination 
are often much at fault from the lack of good Judgment 
on the part of the agent. 



RELATION OF IMAGINATION. 83 

Reasoning is to a certain extent subsidiary to, and affili- 
ated with Imagination, but is clearly distinct from it. 
Like Judgment it has largely to do with truth 
and fact, while Imagination deals with possibili- 
ties and conceptions. Reasoning proceeds from estab- 
lished premises ; but Imagination has no need of these. 
Still reasoning is not wholly alien to the work of Imagina- 
tion, but has some subsidiary relation to it. In forming 
out of the materials in hand the combination desired, it is 
pretty nearly certain that there will be occasion for draw- 
ing inferences as to proportion, situation, or symmetry, or 
some other condition of the new whole, or all of these. 

Taste is closely connected with Imagination, while yet 

not at all identical with it. The latter may exist in high 

degree where the former is greatly deficient, if 

& , ni . -,-, & / . , Taste not 

not wholly wanting. But taste is essential to identical 

the best effect of the Imagination. Without it, JK 

& ' closely re- 

the latter will become wild, grotesque, and latedto, im- 

offensive. This is especially the case when 
beauty is the aim in any department of representative art. 
Taste must regulate and direct the Imagination. To- 
gether with the Judgment it is an essential guide and 
modulator of this power of the mind. 

ACTIVE AND PASSIVE IMAGINATION. 

This is a division made by some writers, but not ad- 
mitted by others. Whatever may be the difference of 
opinion, it must have reference rather to the Some <}i st i nc . 
designation than to the matter of fact. There tion certain- 
can be little doubt that somewhat of a distinction is to be 
made. It is certain that while some persons have the power 
to originate pictures and representations of remarkable 



84 PSYCHOLOGY. 

effectiveness, others who cannot do this, yet can re-form 
these when presented to the mind, and can appreciate 
the representation when thus made. Only a few persons 
have the former power, while a great many have the lat- 
ter ; there are also a smaller number who have it in only a 
slight degree, or possibly not at all. It certainly requires 
some Imagination to appreciate a picture of real merit, or 
a group of statuary evincing much ability on the part of 
the artist, or a poem, or even a good dramatic story ; and 
hundreds have this capability where perhaps only one 
could represent any of these. 



UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 85 



CHAPTER V. 

UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 

Many persons are disposed to regard Imagination as 
having no real utility, or, at least, none for the Imaffination 
more serious purposes of life ; they would treat often re- 
it as at the best wholly ornamental. But even withoututii- 
if this were true, it would not necessarily follow j^T"* 
that it had no utility. Use and beauty are not ornamental, 
wholly alien to each other, nor are they mutually antago- 
nistic. A thousand things are useful simply 
because they are beautiful. Otherwise it would beauty not 
appear that the all-wise Creator had put a vast an agomstlc - 
amount of useless work into the structure of the physical 
universe. It would probably not be very difficult to prove 
that many things are beautiful just because of Many things 

their utility. And this,' too, by no excess of beauti ™°y 

•j . . reason of 

figurative language. But even if the allegation their utility. 

were true that there is such an antagonism, still we should 

find on examination that Imagination has an important 

office among the utilities of humanity. 

In the first place, Imagination is often essential to the 

writer or speaker in setting forth what he wishes to convey 

to the minds of others. No man can so describe imagination 

a scene or a series of events as to produce the ^j^and 

desired effect on those who hear him, unless he speakers. 

is possessed of a certain degree of Imagination. Hence 

an orator, an essayist, a teacher, a historian without this 



86 PSYCHOLOGY. 

faculty would be, if not a failure, at least greatly lacking 
Difference * n effectiveness. This is one of the principal dif- 
between an ferences between an eloquent orator or writer, 
andanun- and one that is dull and uninteresting, though 
shaker or 6 P erna P s equally intelligent and learned — the 
writer. former brings his subject vividly before our 

minds simply because he has a vivid conception of it him- 
self, and is able to give us such outlines and points of the 
picture that it easily reproduces itself in the minds of those 
to whom it is presented ; the other gives a dry detail of 
facts or principles or arguments, which commends itself to 
only a few minds. 

We have already seen something of the mutual relations 
of Imagination and Invention. It would be nearly impos- 
Successfui s ^ e f° r a man ? no matter what his genius in 
invention im- other respects, to devise a complicated machine 
without im- if he had no Imagination. Very often the whole 
agination. structure must be imagined first in his mind and 
must there be held subject to various modifications, before 
even a draught of it is made, to say nothing of a model. 

So, too, in great practical enterprises, plans must be 
formed in the mind, and, so to speak, be manipulated there, 
Business en- before they can be projected in actualities, or 
terprises. even described and published. Napoleon in 
arranging for one of his great campaigns, reaching through 
months of time, and extending over many leagues of ter- 
instance of ritory, and comprising all the divisions and sub- 
Napoleon, divisions of an army of a hundred thousand 
men, with all the immense trains of artillery and baggage, 
— wishing to keep the matter secret till the time arrived to 
begin to carry it into execution, held the whole plan in 
his own mind. Each day's march of each division and the 



UTILITY OF THE IMAGINATION. 87 

different routes, the points of convergence and concentra- 
tion, the time and place where the first battle would prob- 
ably be fought, the subsequent movement in different 
lines, the concentration again, the time and place of the 
second battle, and all the complicated operations, many of 
them depending upon many contingencies; yet all these 
calculated with wonderful skill and marvellous prescience 
— were carried in his head till the hour to divulge them 
came. Then he called his chief of staff, and in a rapid, 
conversational manner, gave an exposition of the whole 
plaf! and had it put on paper as he gave it out. It is said 
that the actual movements throughout, notwithstanding 
the natural uncertainty of battles of which there were 
several, and the fortuities which no human mind could 
anticipate, corresponded almost entirely with the concep- 
tions previously formed in the mind of the great captain. 
It may be said that there were other powers than that of 
the Imagination involved here. True ; but it is impossi- 
ble to suppose that a man either destitute of this power, 
or possessing it only in a low degree, would be competent 
to form and carry in his mind so gigantic a plan. 

Even in science it is not possible to dispense altogether 
with this faculty. Very much of our modern Indig eng 
scientific investigation involves Hypothesis, and able in 
at least an important faculty in the formation of 
hypothesis is Imagination. The Imagination was as really 
concerned in the hypothesis of Ptolemy and in 
that of Copernicus relating to the movement of 
the heavenly bodies, as in Michael Angelo's " Moses " or 
Milton's "Paradise Lost." In many of the minor sciences 
its utility is not the less great. 

But Imagination is of especial value in the formation of 



88 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ideals of excellence in every department of human interest. 
Formation Ideals are representations of that which we 
of ideals. regard as perfect, and they are solely the crea- 
tures of the Imagination. As set before us they are higher 
than anything we have yet attained to — higher perhaps 
Meaning of than anything really attainable — but as condi- 
ideais. tions at which we aim and towards which we 

may, more or less, approximate, they are of untold advan- 
tage. This is particularly the case in respect to conduct 
„ . . and character. The man who places before 

Value in re- l 

spectto him the ideal of a pure and lofty character, 

delighting in it, as he must, if he forms it at all, 

almost unconsciously strives to realize it in his own life. 

The person who does not have some such ideal is not 

likely to make much of his life. He simply drifts about 

exposed to winds and currents which carry him whither 

they will ; he lives a purposeless life, and attains to no 

high excellence. 



CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 89 



CHAPTER VI. 

CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 

This faculty,' like all other powers of the mind and, we 
might add, of the body, is developed and strengthened by 
use, and impaired by disuse. Exercise of even strengthened 
a weak imagination, if persistent and regular, ^ p u a ^ re a ^ jL 
will greatly tend to improve it. Of course disuse. 
Nature does more for some than for others, and it is not 
to be expected that each imagination will become the 
equal of every other, nor that all men will become geniuses 
in this respect more than in any other. Not every man 
will become a 'Samson in physical strength, however care- 
fully he cultivates his body ; but every healthy man may 
gain great additions to his strength, such as he would not 
have if he did not practise those exercises which imply 
muscular force and energy. The analogy holds with refer- 
ence to the Imagination. The man who diligently uses 
such powers as he has, whether small or moderate, will find 
them developing into greater effectiveness. 

The Imagination is also cultivated by the Study of the 
Ideal Creations of great artists, poets, orators, and literary 
men. To see much of these, to become inter- The study of 
ested in and inspired by them, is to have enkin- *^ ofgreat 
died in us a desire to imitate them, and to fill artists, 
our minds with representations which can but powerfully 
influence our own characters. No one can be familiar with 
the works of Homer and Virgil and Shakespeare and Milton, 



90 PSYCHOLOGY. 

of Raphael and Michael Angelo, of Canova and Thorwald- 
sen, without catching something of the spirit that animated 
those great artists. 

The Study of Nature is also an important means of culti- 
vating the Imagination. Most people, it is true, unless 
study of they are immured perpetually in cities, have 
nature. access to Nature ; but there are comparatively 

few who are impressed with the marvellous beauties, the 
grandeur and sublimity, that are found almost everywhere 
by those who are disposed to look for them. The habit of 
Beauti s of observation is wanting in many, and even where 
nature, even it exists it is frequently directed to those par- 
frequentiy ' ticulars which have nothing to do with our ees- 
not observed. thetic suscep tibilities. The farmer, if he be an 
observant man at all, is likely to be thinking of the capa- 
bilities of the soil in relation to crops, grazing, etc. The 
civil engineer would be regarding the facilities for road- 
building, or for railways, looking out for water-powers 
and the construction of canals. So of many others who 
have particular interests in mind. But even some of 
these and many others could, by a little effort, direct 
their observation to such pictures of the aspect of Nature 
as would tend to excite, interest, and develop the Imagina- 
tion and the Taste. 

It is to be remarked, that while the aspects of Nature are 
often beautiful in themselves, there is still greater beauty 
More beauty in what is suggested than in what actually ex- 
than per d * sts- Hence such scenes appeal to the idealizing 
ceived. power in the beholder. If this be wanting, it 

is not strange that the external aspect imparts no pleasure, 
and no sense of beauty. It is not a product of the Imagina- 
tion to present to the mind itself, or to describe or repre- 



CULTIVATION OF THE IMAGINATION. 91 

sent to another, such a scene just as it is. The mind must 
add something of its own. A bare photograph is not a 
work either of Imagination or of Art. A man may imitate 
without idealizing, but it is only in the latter suggestive 
that his Imagination comes into play. Take the illustration, 
following from Byron : — 

" She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 

And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meet in her aspect and her eyes : 

Thus mellowed to that tender light 
Which heaven to gaudy day denies." 

Here the poet wishes to describe a woman's beauty, one 
characteristic of which is that the dark and light so mingle, 
both in her general appearance and in her eyes, as to greatly 
enhance the effect of both. But instead of saying this in 
the commonplace way I have just indicated, he thinks of a 
night in a region where the atmosphere is pure, and the 
stars come out in full force, the very darkness rendering 
their light incalculably more beautiful. This furnishes an 
apt simile, by using which he not only the better expresses 
his thought, but charms and captivates the reader as no 
literal description could possibly do. 



PART III. 



THE ELABORATIVE FACULTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

THOUGHT AND THINKING. 

We have seen that cognitions are presented to the mind 
through Sensation and Perception, and by the Inner- 
Sense, and that these make us acquainted with Previous 
certain qualities, energies, and operations of the presenta- 
external world and of the mind itself, and that 
we class these all under the general term Phenomena. We 
have moreover seen that cognitions once in the mind are 
liable to re-present themselves under well-de- Allthese 
fined conditions as implied in the laws of Asso- cognitions 
ciation, and that, while not directly subject to viduais, not 



the control of the will, they are indirectly af- 
fected by it, so that we can within certain limits choose 
what subjects of contemplation shall be present in our 
minds ; and that they there take the different forms of 
Fantasy, Memory, and Imagination. All these Known as 
powers have for their objects the cognition of intuitive, 
individuals, and not of groups or classes as such. The 
general name that has been given to the aggregate of 
these powers, including those of the Reason or regulative 
faculty, not yet considered, is Intuitive Faculties. 

We come now to another set of faculties entirely dif- 
ferent from those first considered, and which are known 
as the Discursive or Elaborative Faculties. These The discur- 
furnish no new material to the mind, but they o™tive elab 
take the cognitions furnished by the other fac- faculties, 
ulties and work them over into new forms which furnish 



96 PSYCHOLOGY. 

additional knowledge. The processes and products of this 
Thought and faculty constitute what is called Thinking or 
thinking. Thought. In strict propriety Thinking is the 
process, and Thought the product, of the discursive facul- 
ties ; but by many if not by most writers, Thought is used 
somewhat indiscriminately for both the operation and the 
result. 

Thought has in the past been used very largely by writ- 
ers, as comprehending all the operations of the intellect 
and as " co-extensive with consciousness." 1 

Thought now ... 

restricted to -But by most ot our best recent writers it is re- 

sive d ope?a- stricted to the processes and product of the dis- 

tions of the cursive faculties. The phenomena of Thought 

are known under the general heads of Concep- 
tion, Judgment, and Reasoning. These also imply cer- 
tain minor and subsidiary powers and processes of which 
we shall become cognizant as we go on. These are usu- 
ally all grouped together and called the Logical or Rational 
processes and faculties. For it is the department of 
mind here considered with which the study of Logic is 
concerned. 

It is obvious that this is a higher department of man's 
intellectual nature than any of which we have heretofore 

taken notice. It is bv thinking that we arrive 

This a higher 

department at the most important and the most difficult of 

any here^ *ke knowledge of which we can come into pos- 

fore consid- session. " By Thought we know effects from 

their causes, and causes through their effects ; 

we believe in powers whose actings we can only directly 

discern, and infer powers in objects which we have never 

tested nor observed ; we explain what has happened by 

1 Sir William Hamilton. 



THOUGHT AND THINKING. 97 

referring it to laws of necessity or reason, and we pre- 
dict what will happen by rightly interpreting what has 
occurred. By thinking we rise to the unseen from that 
which is seen, to the laws of Nature from the facts of 
Nature, to the laws of spirit from the phenomena of spirit, 
and to God from the universe of matter and of spirit, 
whose powers reveal His energy, and whose ends and 
adaptations manifest His thoughts and character." 1 

Let us take an instance exemplifying what is meant by 
thinking. I look out of my window and see a tree. So 
far as sense-perception goes, I cognize an object iu ustrat i ve 
of a certain form and size and color or colors, instance. 
I know that it is an external object and that it exists. So 
far, and possibly further, I have done no perceptible think- 
ing — possibly none at all. But I also know that there 
are certain causes for the existence of the tree. I know 
that it must have grown, though I have never seen it 
grow. I know that it grew from a seed, and that seed was 
in the fruit of another tree, which I have good reason to 
think grew also from another seed, and so on in an indefi- 
nite series. But, coming back again to the present tree, I 
compare it with several other trees that I have in my 
mind, — hemlock, spruce, pine, oak, birch, maple, beech ; I 
know that it is a maple ; this from the shape of its leaves 
and the character of the bark. I also know that it is likely 
to be the parent of other trees, and that these trees will be 
maples, and not oaks or pines ; and that from these will 
come still other trees that will also be maples. I also 
know that the wood of this tree is of a certain character; 
that it will have a peculiar kind of utility for fuel ; that it 
can be made of a certain use as building material, or for 

1 President Porter : The Human Intellect. 



98 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



furniture, or for other purposes ; also, that when it is of a 
certain size, at a certain season of the year, from an 
incision sap will flow, from which can be manufactured 
sugar of a peculiar flavor and value. All these things, 
and many more, I know or believe, not from perception 
or the testimony of others, but by Thinking, — that is, by 
judging and reasoning. 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 99 



CHAPTER II. 

CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 

By many writers the term Conception is made to do the 
double duty of representing both the process and the pro- 
duct. But it seems to me that when we have „ .. 

Double mean- 
two different things, and two words which may ing of "con- 
be applied to them respectively, and especially 
where this fact exists to any considerable extent, it is both 
a more desirable and more economical use of language to 
avail ourselves of this distinction. Accordingly I propose 
to use the word conception for the power or process of the 
mind, and concept for the product. 

Conception, then, as a process, is divided into Several dis . 
several distinct operations ; namely, analysis, tinct opera- 
abstraction, comparison, and generalization. 

Let us suppose that we perceive an object. We are 
sometimes taught that our perception is of an object im- 
mediately and instantly. Doubtless in a certain Not always 
sense this is true. Long- before we have come conscious of 

o the processes 

to observe our mental operations we have formed of cognition- 
habits of rapid perception, that is, of so quickly uniting 
our perceptions of different parts that we cease to pay 
attention to the various minute steps of the process, or 
even to be aware that there is any process at all. Thus, 
apparently, on seeing a house, a tree, a horse, a rose, or an 
orange, we instantly cognize the aggregate individual in 
each case, and do not cognize noticeably the several qual- 



100 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ities which we have swiftly united in our minds to form 
still there is tne object. Nevertheless there is a process, a 
a process. perception, first of the different parts or ele- 
ments, and then a synthesis of these into a whole. This is 
evident from the fact that often when we see a new object, 
and especially if it be a somewhat though perhaps only 
moderately complicated object, we spend some time in 
considering the separate parts and their relations to each 
other, before we can be said to have any definite perception 
of the individual whole. This is the case even when we 
see objects with which we are more or less familiar, in a 
dim light or under unfavorable circumstances. As we say, 
sometimes, " I cannot quite make it out ; " and it is only 
by more carefully noting the parts or qualities and their 
relations, that the familiar object finally re-forms itself in 
our minds. 

Still under the habits of perception which we have formed, 
we do so instantly take in the object perceived that there 
is not the least apparent synthesis of parts and qualities. 
Hence to all practical intents we perceive the whole before 
The first con- we perceive its parts. Consequently the first 
cTsTthat°of operation of which we are conscious in the pro- 
analysis, cess of conception is that of Analysis. We 
separate the object into its parts. 

Let us take a concrete case. I see before me an object 
which has a certain effect on the eye, — that is, it is of a 
certain hue. It has, as I note, a certain form and size. 
I touch it, and it is soft and smooth and yielding, but not 
fluid. It has also a certain odor of which I readily become 
aware. There are a dozen other qualities which it might 
be difficult to specify, but which the observer knows. Now 
I may do either of two things : I may abstract a single 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 101 

quality, or several of the qualities, and proceed from the 
former or the latter, according to the object I have in view. 
Let us take the single quality which first affects me through 
the eye. I make this color the sole object of my atten- 
tion, leaving out all the other qualities. This is 
Abstraction — a drawing away from all the others 
for the sake of exclusive consideration. This is the second 
step in the process. 

The third step is that of Comparison. Having fixed upon 
the color of the object, I look about me at the multitude of 
objects on every side. I compare their various 
qualities with this particular one, which I have 
in mind. Some of these qualities appeal to the ear, and 
others to the touch, and others to other senses, and thus 
are entirely unlike this. But I see several qualities which, 
like this, appeal directly to the eye, and yet they differ 
from one another. They are alike in some respects, but 
diverse in others. But among these various colors I find 
several instances of substantial similarity to this. I decide 
that these are alike. So far Comparison. 

I now proceed to put all those objects having this quality 
which I have found in a large number of instances, into a 
group or class by themselves. Wherever I find CIassiflca . 
anything which is thus characterized, a flower, a tion or gene- 
bit of ribbon, the plumage of a bird, the clouds at 
sunset, a lady's dress, a burning coal, etc., — these are all put 
into a class by themselves. This is Generalization, — an iden- 
tification of the quality in any number of different objects. 

It only remains to give a name to this class. For, though 
the process of Conception is complete at the point at winch 
we have arrived, in order to assure its utility Denomina- 
and availability, it must have a name. So tion - 



102 PSYCHOLOGY. 

this is added to the process by many writers, and called 
Denomination. The name that we give to this class which 
we have formed, and which, when we have gathered up 
We call the under one name, we call a Concept, is that of red 
Susformed t ^ n 9 s - Every object that has this quality we 
a concept. call a red tiling, though we ordinarily use the 
designating adjective with some noun, and say, a red rose, 
a red ribbon, etc. This we may do, or we may carry our 
observation further, and keep the color separate from all 
its substances, and give it a name by itself, calling it 
redness. In this case we have an abstract, instead of a 
concrete Concept. 

There is a second method of Conception. We take an 
object which is presented to our senses. We observe, as 
. . before, its particular qualities, making an Analy- 

methodof sis of it. We take particular note of several 
of these qualities, which we abstract from the 
others ; among these, that it is an animal (which must pre- 
viously, of course, have been generalized), that it has a 
bushy tail and mane, an arching neck, a peculiarly shaped 
head, and four feet. We compare this with other animals, 
and among them, while we find a great multitude that have 
certain of these characteristics, there is a smaller number, 
the individuals of which have all of them. These we put 
Conception together in a class, and call them liorses. Now 
of a horse. horse becomes the name of the class — it is a 
term or Concept, and it is given to a class, and so desig- 
A class every na ^ es the class that every member of it may be 
individual in called by this name — a horse — every member 
be called a also having all the qualities to which I first re- 
horse, ferred. Or we might have taken the single 
quality of this object, namely, its having four feet, and, 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 103 

using this quality as a test, and putting all animals having 
it in a class, have given this class the name quadruped. 

We are now prepared to give the complete definition of 
the Concept. It is " that product of the mind Definition of 
which results from Generalization whereby many concept. 
individuals are combined in one class, through one or more 
similar qualities, and are indicated by a common term." 1 

Thus we have classes numbering hundreds and thou- 
sands of individuals, all individuals in each called by a 
common name, as horse, dog, man, tree, house, etc. Each 
horse is different from every other horse, though every horse 
has certain qualities that belong to all horses, and every 
individual horse, whatever peculiarities he may have, has 
in any case these qualities and may therefore be designated 
by this term. 

HIGHER AND LOWER CONCEPTS. 

Concepts may be formed, not only from individuals, but 
from other concepts or classes. That is, there Concepts 
are classes of classes. This gives rise to the idea fo " ned from 

J o other con- 

of higher and lower concepts. These higher cepts. 
concepts are formed from the lower in the same way that 
the lower are formed from the individuals. The follow- 
ing diagram will illustrate what is meant by this. 

VEGETABLES. 
Trees. Shrubs. Grasses, etc. 

Rose, Currant, Blackberry, etc. 



Oaks, Maples, Pines, etc. Wheat, Bye, Timothy, etc. 

This might be extended still further. Here we have, 
for instance, an oak. On examining it we find that it has 

1 Atwater's Logic. 



104 PSYCHOLOGY. 

certain qualities in common with maples, pines, etc. Now 
oaks, pines, and maples are themselves concepts, having 
under them respectively several lower concepts, these 
being generalized from individuals. But attention is prin- 
cipally called to this fact, that the concepts named have 
certain qualities in common, and these qualities taken 
together constitute the qualities of trees. This, then, 
becomes a higher concept generalized from the concepts 
oaks, maples, pines. Hence every oak, as also every 
pine, and every one of several other concepts, is a tree. 
still higher We ma y carry the generalization still higher, 
concepts. Thus, trees when compared with shrubs, 
grasses, and some other concepts, will be found to have 
certain qualities which are also common to all of them. 
These we combine together under one term and call them 
vegetables. Every tree is a vegetable, every shrub and 
every kind of grass is a vegetable. Of course, as the 
higher contains all the lower, it must necessarily contain 
all that they contain. Hence all classes of trees and all 
classes of shrubs and grasses, and all individuals of each 
class, are also vegetables. 

There is another noticeable feature in the relation of 
Denomina- these higher and lower concepts as presented 
objects cor- m ^ ie diagram. Perhaps if we put it in a sin- 
responds gle column we may be able to comprehend it 

Within- i i rr.U 

crease of more clearly. Thus : — 

qualities, and 

vice versa. Vegetable. 

Tree. 



Sugar Maple. 
This Sugar Maple. 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 105 

As we go from below upward we notice that the num- 
ber of objects in the several classes or concepts in- 
creases. Thus, at the bottom we have onlv a . 

J As we go 
single individual — one sugar maple. In the from the in- 
next above we have this particular sugar maple thTsummum 
and many others. In the class above this we genus the 
, ',-.,. t t n t number of 

have not only this sugar maple and all other objects in- 

sugar maples, but all other kinds of maples be- creases- 
sides. In the next higher class are comprised all those 
of which we have spoken — all the maples and the 
classes and individuals included in them — also all oaks 
and pines and elms, and all other trees of every sort. 
While in the highest class are contained all the trees, 
and in addition to these, all shrubs and grasses and 
whatever else comes under the head of vegetables. There 
are very many more vegetables than there are trees ; 
many more trees than maples; and many individual 
sugar maples. 

On the other hand we shall find a diminution as well as 
an increase as we go from the lower to the higher ; but 
the diminution will be in the number of qualities, B . . 
and not of objects. This sugar maple has all the a diminution 
qualities that belong to all sugar maples, and berofquaii- 
some that no other sugar maple has. Sugar ties " 
maples also have all the qualities that maples as such 
have, and some which they do not have, and which make 
these not only maples, but sugar maples. Again, maples 
have all the qualities that belong to trees, and others that 
are not implied in the concept tree. So of trees in rela- 
tion to vegetables. In every upward step from lower to 
higher concepts, there is a dropping off of qualities and a 
taking on of objects. This phenomenon may be repre- 



106 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



sented in two columns, the one increasing as we go from 
the top to the bottom, and the other decreasing : — 



Vegetable 



Vegetable 



Tree 



Tree 



Maple 



Maple 



Sugar Maple 



Sugar Maple 



This 
Sugar Maple 



This Sugar Maple 



Here, then, we have two wholes ; the one of Extension, 
the other of Intension. The former has reference to the 
The two quantity of the concept, or the number of objects 

wholes of contained under it. The latter pertains to the 
and inten- quality of the concept ; that is, the number of 
S10n ' different characteristics implied in it. It has 

been observed that as we go up the column, the num- 
ber of objects increases and the number of qualities 
diminishes ; or the extension increases as the intension 
diminishes. As we go down the column, the intension 
increases and the extension diminishes. In other words, 
the extension and intension are in the inverse proportion 
to each other. 

The highest class of the objects under consideration is 
called the Summum Genus. The lowest class, that cannot be 
Summum further divided, except into individuals, is called 
genus and t j le Infima Species. The individual, as its name 
species. implies, is that which is not logically divisible. 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 107 

It may be physically divided into parts, but these parts 
would have no logical concept of which the individual 
was a member. Thus we may divide animals The indi- 
into vertebrates, radiates, mollusks, etc. ; verte- logically 
brates into quadrupeds and bipeds; quadra- dlvlslble - 
peds into horses, dogs, goats, sheep, etc.; horses into 
Shetland ponies, mustangs, war-horses, and others ; war- 
horses into individuals, of which Bucephalus may be 
one. Now Bucephalus may be killed and divided up 
into head, legs, hide, entrails, and carcass ; but none 

of - these is a horse : whereas in the divisions . . , . . 

,. . , ,. . . In physical 

previous to this, each part or division m divisions no 

all the grades may be called by the name of caiMbytL 
the class above it. Bucephalus is a war-horse ; name of the 
a war-horse is a horse, and a horse is a quadru- 
ped, and a quadruped is a vertebrate, and a vertebrate 
is an animal, as is each of the subordinate classes 
through all the grades down to the individual Bucepha- 
lus. The Absolute Summum G-enus is the Abso i ute 
highest possible class, that which can never be summum 
a species* Thus Being cannot be a species of 
anything ; it includes all objects in the universe under it, 
and has but a single quality. 

It is of great importance to have accurate conceptions. 
There can be no healtlry and valuable thinking with- 
out this. The three great virtues of think- „, , 
ing are Clearness, Distinctness, and Adequacy, great virtues 

mi ,! ,. . _ _ . of conception- 

I he three corresponding vices are Confusion, 
Obscurity, and Inadequacy. 

A conception is clear when we can separate a particular 
concept from all others. It is somewhat the same as in 
perception. We clearly perceive a man when we dis- 



108 PSYCHOLOGY. 

tinguish him from other objects. In the dimness of the 
light or in the distance we may not be able 
to make ont clearly whether the object seen is 
a stump, or a bush, or some animal ; but as we come 
nearer, or the light grows stronger, we satisfy ourselves 
that it is a man, and not one of the other objects men- 
tioned. What is true of perception is true of other cog- 
nitions and especially of concepts. Many persons do not 
clearly distinguish Zoology from Natural History, Per- 
cept from Perception, Thought from Mental Activity, 
Trade from Commerce, Pride from Vanity, Self-respect 
from Pride, or Selfishness from Self-love. Yet clear- 
ness in thinking demands this discrimination, and for 
want of this discrimination arises the vice of mental 
confusion. 

Distinctness of conception exists not only when we are 
able to separate the cognition from other cognitions, but 

also to designate the marks which distinguish 
Distinctness- . , r™ i i 

it. ihere are many cases where we have 

what is called a clear cognition, but at the same time it 

is not distinct. In the illustration previously given, of 

knowing that the object was a man, and not a stump or a 

bush, most persons might make the discrimination that 

would enable them to decide positively that the object was 

a man ; but the great majority, if asked for their reasons 

for so deciding, could not give them — in other words, 

they cannot give the marks of the object. This is often 

the case in all sorts of cognitions. Thus in the familiar 

illustration of the handwriting of intimate friends. We 

see a letter or other document in a certain style of chirog- 

raphy, and we at once decide that it is the handwriting of 

a certain person with whose style of writing we are famil- 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 109 

iar. We have no doubt about it, and on the witness-stand 
in a court-room under oath, might feel no hesitation in 



cting this. But if the cross-examining lawyer should 
ask us how we knoiv that this is the handwriting of the 
person alleged, we probably should not be able to answer. 
We could not give the marks that distinguish it from the 
writing of other persons. So, too, we meet persons whom 
we know instantly. They are not very unlike a score of 
other persons whom we know ; but if asked to identify 
them by particular marks, we could not do so ; we could 
not tell in what respect any one of them differed from any 
one of a certain number of other persons. An expert in 
penmanship, in the case of handwriting, could do this ; 
so could a man who had made a study of physiognomies, 
point out the particular marks which distinguish one man 
from another. To be able to do this is to have a distinct 
cognition. It is so in the use of common terms. The man 
who has only a clear conception will be accurate enough 
for most purposes ; but there are times when greater pre- 
cision is required, and then distinctness of conception 
is necessary. 

It is frequently necessary to go even further than this. 
Our conceptions must in certain cases not only be clear 
and distinct, but they must be Adequate. We Adequate- 
must be able to separate the concept from other n ess. 
concepts, and to give the marks by which this separate 
concept may be tested ; we must be able also to ana- 
lyze the marks themselves and give their The marks of 
elements ; in other words, to give the marks the marks. 
of the marks. Thus in the concept man: I know that 
he differs from other objects ; I can also give the marks 
by which he is thus distinguished, — as, that he is ani- 



110 PSYCHOLOGY. 

mal and rational. If asked to explain what I mean by 
these terms, I must be able to give the marks of animal 
and rational, and show that the former is distinguished 
by organization • and sentiency ; and the latter by intelli- 
gence and reason. Careful, exact, and critical thought 
must have all these virtues. 

DIVISION AND DEFINITION. 

These virtues of which I have spoken as essential to all 
good thinking will be very greatly promoted by the care- 
Office of ft*! study of the Division and Definition of con- 
division, cepts. The former of these terms relates to the 
explication of the concept considered as a whole of exten- 
Office of s i° n > that i s ' with reference to the quantity, or 
definition. the number, of objects comprised under it. 
Definition, on the other hand, relates to the quality of the 
concept ; that is, it is the unfolding of the whole of inten- 
sion. This, then, is to be particularly borne in mind : that 
the division of a concept consists in separating it into its 
constituent parts ; and that definition consists in separating 
it into its constituent qualities. 

RULES FOR DIVISION. 

1. It must proceed from genera to species in regular order 
and not arbitrarily. To divide men into Europeans, In- 
Must pro- dians, Australians, Chinamen, Mexicans, and 
genera"™ Malaysians, would be a violation of this rule, 
species- They might be divided geographically, first, 
according to continental arrangement, and then each of 
these chief divisions might be subdivided. 

2. There must be one fundamental principle of division. 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. Ill 

It would not do, for instance, to divide Americans into Vir- 
ginians, New Englanders, Protestants, Catholics, 0nefunda . 
Agriculturists, Clergymen, etc. Some might mental prin 
thus be found in two or three divisions, and cip 
some might not be included anywhere. 

3. The divisions must be mutually exclusive, ; otherwise we 
might be involved in the same errors as noticed Mutually 
under Rule 2. exclusive - 

4. The sum of all the parts should be exactly Sum of the 
equal to the concept to be divided; each member equal to tne y 
must be less than the division or class to be whole, 
divided. 

5. It must not be by negatives, or what is called in Logic 
by Inflnitation. To divide men into English- Not by- 
men and those who are not Englishmen, is a 
complete division, but it is also of no value. 

I have already spoken of the difference between logical 
division and physical division. The individual cannot be 
logically divided, for the reason that its several Lo . ^ and 
parts have no logical relation to the concepts physical 
of which it is a member. No one of the parts 
of a horse can be called a horse. But each individual horse 
is a quadruped, a mammal, a vertebrate, an animal. 

It will be readily noticed that this subject of division is 
one of great importance in all our thinking, and does not 
confine itself exclusively to scientific classifica- i mp0 rtance 
tion. It is most essential to a man who is called of division, 
upon for public addresses, in the writing of essays and 
treatises, in plans of business and of statesmanship. One 
can hardly set forth clearly any purpose or project without 
some practical acquaintance with these principles. 



112 PSYCHOLOGY. 

RULES FOR DEFINITION. 

Definition gives the marks of conceptions, and thus bounds 
them off from all other conceptions, so that we not only- 
import of know that they differ, but in what respect they 

definition- differ. 

1. Definition must be by marks which distinguish the 
thing defined from all the other members of the next class 
By essen- above it. In other words, it must be by essential 
tial marks, marks. By essential marks we mean that the 
definition must be in terms of the class above the concept 
to be denned, and those qualities which distinguish it from 
other concepts of the same class. The concept to be de- 
fined is always a species of some genus, and it must be 
defined in terms of that genus and the differentia, or the 
marks by which it differs from that genus. The formula 
may be expressed thus : Species = Genus + Differentia. 
As an illustrative example, take the following : — 

Man = Animal + Rational ; or 

Man is a rational animal. Here we have Man, the concept 
to be defined ; and the definition, consisting of Animal, the 
genus of Man, with the addition of the differentia Rational, 
which marks him off from animals generally. 

2. A definition should never include the name of the thing 
defined, or any term etymologically connected with it. 
Should Thus, we should not define vivacity as " speak- 
never include • writing' in a vivacious manner." This is 
the name of & ° 

die definitum- tautological. It also is similar to defining in a 

circle, which is to be avoided. Thus it would not be logi- 
cal to define light as " an illuminating force," and then, if 
asked to explain further, to define illuminating as "the 
giving of light." 



CONCEPTION AND CONCEPTS. 113 

3. It must include all the objects covered by the concept 
to be defined, and nothing else. If we define a Must in 
horse as a quadruped, we are including some- elude all the 
thing more than the thing to be defined. If we defined, and 
define it as a Shetland pony, we are not includ- nothin s else - 
ing enough, since there are other horses besides Shetland 
ponies. 

4. It must not be by negatives ; as, to define a sheep as 
not a goat, gives us no positive information Must not be 
Whatever. by negatives- 

5. It must be precise, and free from surplus words. 
" Parallel lines are those that never meet," is not an ade- 
quate definition, since they might be in different „ f 
planes and never meet, and yet not be parallel, surplus 

" Parallelograms are rectilineal, four-sided fig- 
ures, whose opposite sides are parallel and equal," is not a 
good definition, since the words " and equal " are unneces- 
sary, and they are therefore misleading, as giving the im- 
pression that there may be parallelograms whose opposite 
sides are parallel but not equal. 



114 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER III. 

JUDGMENT. 

Judgment is that act of the mind by which, on the com- 
parison of two concepts, or an individual and a concept, 
ive affirm that they agree or disagree. Thus 
we take bird and animal. On comparing them 
together, if we fully understand these concepts, we find 
that bird has all the qualities that belong to animal; we 
may therefore assert that they agree ; that is, that a bird 
is an animal. So, on the other hand, if we compare the 
conceptions man and angel, we shall find that neither of 
them has the qualities that belong to the other ; hence we 
may assert that they do not agree, or that no man is an 
angel. 

Judgment, it will be observed, is a mental process. A 
judgment is a mental product ; and when expressed in 
. . . language the expression is called a proposition. 

andaproposi- It always consists of two terms (from termini, 
the extremes) and a copida. One of the terms 
is called the Subject, and the other the Predicate. The 
Predicate subject is that of which something is asserted, 
and subject. The predicate is that which is asserted of the 
subject. The copula is that by which the assertion is 
made, and is always some form of the present indicative 
of the verb to be, or is capable of being reduced to that 
form. Thus, in the proposition, " Csesar conquered Gaul," 



JUDGMENT. 115 

there is expressed no form of the verb to be, and there 
is no copula separate from the predicate. But what is 
implied, and will fully appear when the proposition is 
fully explicated, is, " Csesar is the man who conquered 
Gaul." 

The following analysis of the process of judgment has 
been given by Crousaz, as quoted by Sir William Hamil- 
ton : " In fine, when we judge, we must have, Crousaz . 
in the first place, at least two notions ; in the analysis of a 
second place, we compare these ; in the third, JU gmen ' 
we recognize that one contains or excludes the other ; and 
in the fourth, we acquiesce in the recognition." 

Judgments are variously classified, according to the 

points of view from which they are contemplated. First, 

they are regarded in respect to Quantity. By Judgments 

the quantity of a judgment is meant the relation classified. 

of the predicate to the extension of the subject;- that is, 

whether the predicate is of the whole or some 

indefinite part of the subject. With respect to 

Quantity, judgments are either Universal, Particular, or 

Singular. They are universal when the predicate is 

affirmed or denied of the subject taken dis- 

.. . . n , . . . Universal- 

tributively, or when the assertion is concerning 

the whole of the subject, as, "All men are mortal;" "No 

horses are bipeds." Judgments are particular when the 

predicate is affirmed or denied of an indefinite 

(.,,. r, ,, Particular, 

part of the subject, as, " borne men are poets ; 

"Some animals are vertebrates." Judgments are singu- 
lar when the predicate is affirmed or denied of an indi- 
vidual, as, " Columbus discovered America ; " 
or of a plurality of individuals taken collec- 
tively, as, " This army is invincible." Singular judgments 



116 PSYCHOLOGY. 

are treated as universals, since the predication is of the 
Singular whole subject. Also, when any definite part of 
treated^! a su bj ect is taken, the judgment is to be 
universals. regarded as universal. " These men are natives 
of Ireland." Here the predication is of all that is con- 
tained in the subject, and the word with its limiting 
adjunct is a definite whole as it would not be if we were 
Distributed to say "some men." A word is said to be 
terms. Distributed when the whole of the concept is 

taken ; it is Undistributed when only an indefinite part is 
taken. The Quality of a judgment has reference to the 
Quality agreement or disagreement of the subject and 

affirmative or predicate. The distinction of judgments in 

this respect is that they are either Affirmative 
or Negative. Propositions are affirmative when they have 
an affirmative copula, and negative when the copula is 
negative. Sometimes the proposition is affirmative when it 
may seem to be negative, and vice versa. " All men who are 
not righteous are wicked," is an affirmative proposition, 
since the negative falls not in the copula, but modifies the 
subject. So, too, " Few men are saints," is in form affirm- 
ative, but virtually negative, because it is equivalent to 
saying that " Most men are not saints." 

In respect to Quantity and Quality, then, there are, accord- 
Four kinds ni £ to tne °^ logicians, four kinds of judg- 
of judg- ments, which it is customary to symbolize by the 

letters A, E, I, and O, thus : 

Universal Affirmative, A. 

Universal Negative, E. 

Particular Affirmative, I. 

Particular Negative, 0. 



JUDGMENT. 117 

The later logicians have added two more kinds based 
upon the doctrine of a Quantified or Distributed Predi- 
cate. According to the ordinary forms of affirm- Distributed 
ative propositions, the predicate is not distrib- predicate. 
uted ; that is, there is nothing in the form that indicates 
its distribution. Still it may be actually distributed from 
the very nature of the case. Thus, when we say, "All 
men are mortal," we know that all men are not all the 
mortals there are. So, too, when we say, '■' Men are ra- 
tional animals," so far as the form of the proposition is 
concerned there may be other rational animals besides 
men. But as a matter of fact, we know that the two 
terms " men " and " rational animals " are co-extensive, 
since men are all the rational animals there are ; therefore 
the predicate is distributed as well as the subject. So, 
too, when we say, " Some quadrupeds are horses," they 
are all the horses .; hence, in fact though not in form, the 
predicate is distributed. We thus have two more kinds 
of judgments which are of some value in logic. They are 
called 

Universal Substitutive, U. 

Particular Substitutive, Y. 

But these we need not discuss further. 

Judgments are further divided into Categorical and 
Hypothetical. A Categorical judgment is one in which 
one concept is directly affirmed or ■ denied of categorical 
another, or of an individual. A Hypothetical judgments, 
judgment is one in which the assertion is contingent, or de- 
pends upon some other fact or statement. Hy- Hypothetical 
pothetical judgments are divided into Conditional, judgments. 
Disjunctive, and Dilemmatic. A Conditional judgment is 



118 PSYCHOLOGY. 

one in which such a relation exists between two mem- 
bers of the judgment, known respectively as Antecedent 
Conditional anc ^ Consequent, that if the former is true, 
judgments, the latter is true also ; and if the latter is false, 
the former is also false ; but if the former is false, or the 
latter true, nothing follows as to the other ; as, " If A is 
B, C is D." 

A Disjunctive judgment asserts the connection between 
the subject and predicate with an alternative indicated by 
Disjunctive the particles either and or, as " John will either 
judgments. ea t ^g ca ke or keep it." If one is denied, the 
other is true. A Dilemmatic judgment involves a combi- 
nation of the Conditional and Disjunctive. Thus, " If we 
Dilemmatic sa y John's baptism was from heaven, we con- 
judgments, clemn ourselves ; if we say it was from men, 
the people will stone us." That is, " If we either say it 
was from heaven, or of men, we shall either condemn our- 
selves, or the people will stone us." 

Judgments are either Problematical or Assertory or 
Apodictic. They are Problematical when we are neither 
Problematic certain of them ourselves, nor can we make 
judgments. others certain of them ; as the judgment that 
" Jupiter is inhabited." Such statements can be only 
matters of opinion. An Assertory judgment is one which 
Assertory ma y be subjectively certain, but not objectively 
judgments. so • that is, the asserter may be certain of it, 
but cannot make any one else certain of it. For instance, 
I am certain of some mental affection or operation ; but I 
cannot prove this to another, only so far as he takes my 
Apodictic word for it. Such are matters of religious 
judgments, faith. Apodictic judgments are those which 
are both subjectively and objectively certain ; they are 



JUDGMENT. 119 

known beyond any peradventure to the person who asserts 
them, and they compel the assent of all who hear them. 
The statements that a part of a thing is less than the 
whole, that the sum of all the parts is equal to the whole, 
that two things equal to a third thing are equal to each 
other, are of this kind. All necessary truths come under 
this head. 

Judgment is the essential and radical factor in all 
thinking or thought ; and thinking or thought is the pro- 
cess or product of the discursive faculties. In judgment 
a rudimentary and primitive way judgment is factorSif 
involved in all the operations of this depart- thought, 
ment of the mind. Its conspicuous characteristic is com- 
parison, and this operation we found almost in the very 
beginning of the process of generalization, or the forming 
of concepts. So that, though in its logical sense and use 
of the judgment, it must have a concept for - . 
one of its terms, yet in its strictly psychologi- preceding 
cal character it must have existed in each mind 
before concepts could be formed. Still this process in its 
rudimentary character is so subtile, evanescent, and vague, 
that little notice is taken of it, and the statements con- 
cerning it are, for the most part, unsatisfactory. Never- 
theless it must .not be ignored, or lost sight of, that all 
real thinking is essentially judging. Judgment ah real 
is the prominent element in all reasoning, essentially 
not only as a condition for this process but as judging. 
being a part of it. We always reason in judgments, start- 
ing from judgments, which in the syllogism are compared 
with each other, judging of the truth of the conclusion, 
which is also itself a judgment. 

This thinking or judging, too, is, so far as we can dis- 



120 PSYCHOLOGY. 

cern, a perpetual operation of the mind. It is doubtful if 
there is any action of the intellect from which it is absent ; 
or any portion of our waking or possibly of our sleeping 
hours when it ceases. If a person should take himself up 
at almost any moment, and inquire concerning the present 
or immediately past operation of his mind, if he recalls it 
at all, it is exceedingly probable that he has been compar- 
ing certain thoughts or concepts or representations, and 
affirming or denying something concerning their agree- 
ment. His mind has been asserting that this is this, or 
that it is not something else. The objects may be those 
of perception or of memory or reflection, but there always 
accompanies the mental act some thought or judgment. 

" All thought is a comparison, a recognition of simi- 
larity or difference, a conjunction or disjunction ; in other 
Sir William words, a synthesis or analysis of its objects, 
functions * n conception, that is, in the formation of con- 
of judgment, cepts (or general notions), it compares, disjoins 
or conjoins attributes ; in an act of judgment, it com- 
pares, disjoins, or conjoins concepts ; in reasoning it com- 
pares, disjoins, or conjoins judgments. In each step of 
this process there is one essential element ; to think, to 
compare, or disjoin, it is necessary to recognize one thing 
through or under another. It is in performing this act of 
thinking a thing under a general notion, that we are said 
to understand or comprehend it. For example : An object 
is presented, say, a book ; this object determines an impres- 
sion, and I am even conscious of the impression, but with- 
out recognizing to myself what the thing is ; in that case 
there is only a perception, and not properly a thought. 
But, suppose I do recognize it for what it is, compare it 
with or reduce it under a certain concept, class, or comple- 



JUDGMENT. 121 

ment of attributes, which I call booh ; in that case there 
is more than a perception — there is a thought." 1 This 
will help us to understand what is meant when we say- 
that rudimentary or primitive judgment is involved in all 
our discursive processes. 

1 Sir William Hamilton : Lectures on Logic. 



122 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER IV. 

REASONING AND INFERENCE. 

What is meant by Reasoning is the deriving from 
judgments previously given, of other judgments founded 
upon them; or "that operation of the mind 
through which it forms one judgment from 
many others." The constitution of things is such that 
certain facts are so connected with certain other facts, or 
Existence of so mv °l ve d- in them, that the existence of the 
certain former implies that of the latter, and if we 

plied in That know the one we know the other also, though 
of others. we ma y j iave no m eans of knowing the latter, 
except through the medium of our knowledge of the 
former. Thus, if I see a man on this side of a long river 
at ten o'clock in the morning, and see him on the other 
side at eleven o'clock, I know that he has crossed the 
river in the meantime, though I have not seen him do so, 
nor in any way perceived the act of crossing, nor have 
learned it through any testimony. I know it simply from 
the relations of the other known facts, which are such that 
if they are or were actual, this must also be actual. And 
I know this just as certainly as if I had myself perceived 
it. This I take to be substantially a type of most of our 
reasoning. 

The determination of the relation of facts, whether 
perceptions, acts, deliverances of the Inner-Sense, or of the 
regulative faculty, is by a process of the mind which has 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 123 

already been described, and which is designated as Judg- 
ment. The expression of this in language is called a 
Proposition. As previously shown, . the essential element 
in reasoning, as in all preliminary thinking processes, is 
judgment. We reason from judgment to judgments ; and 
the determining of the relations of judgments, and what 
is involved in them, and whether it be inferential or not, 
is of the nature of a judgment. 

Reasoning is commonly divided into Deductive and 
Inductive — or reasoning from general classes to particular 
classes or to individuals, and reasoning from Deductive 

individuals or particular classes to general facts and induc- 

j . . , tive. 

and principles. 

A difference is also to be observed between Reasoning 

and Inference. The difference is much the same as between 

Analytic and Synthetic reasoning. In the former Reasonin » 

case the conclusion is stated first in the form andinfer- 

of a proposition to be proved ; in the latter 

the grounds or facts from which we reason are stated 

first, and the conclusion inferred from them. 

All oaks are vegetables, because all trees are vegetables, 
and all oaks are trees. 

This is analytic reasoning; that is, a proposition is 
stated, and we look about for its proof. We separate into 
parts, and compare the several parts with Analytic 
another object in such a way that we find a reasoning, 
substantial reason for the truth of the proposition. 

All trees are vegetables ; 
All oaks are trees ; 
All oaks are vegetables. 



124 PSYCHOLOGY. 

This is synthetic. Two propositions are found in such 
relations to each other that they necessarily imply a third, 
Synthetic or by a combination — a synthesis of the ele- 
reasoning. ments of the two — we have a third which is an 
inference from them. 

inference Inference is further either Immediate or Mediate. 

mediate and It is immediate when one judgment is inferred 
from another without the intervention or medi- 
ation of a third judgment. There are several forms of 
Immediate Inference, the most common of which 
are by Opposition and by Conversion. 

OPPOSITION. 

Two judgments are said to be in opposition when they 
have the same subject and predicate, but differ in quantity 
or quality, or both. When they differ in quality only, it is 
called Contrary or Sub-contrary opposition. 

When they differ in quantity only, it is called Subaltern 
opposition. 

When they differ in both quality and quantity it is called 
Contradictory opposition. 

The value of tins method of reasoning is that we imme- 
diately infer from one proposition the truth or falsehood 
of the opposite. 

All men are poets. A. 
*> No men are poets. E. 

These two propositions are in contrary opposition. From 
the truth of the former we infer the falsity of the latter; 
Contrary Du t; not the truth of the latter from the falsity 
opposition. f ^ ie former; since both cannot be true, but 
both may be false, as in this particular case. 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 125 

Some men are poets. I. 

Some men are not poets. 0. 

These are Sub-contraries. From the falsity of the one 
we infer the truth of the other ; but from the sub-contrary 
truth of the one we infer- nothing concerning opposition, 
the other, since they may both be true, as in this in- 
stance they are. 

All men are poets. A. 

Some men are poets. I. 

and 

No men are poets. E. 

Some men are not poets. 0. 

In each case if the former is true, the latter must be true 
also ; but from the truth of the latter nothing follows con- 
cerning the former. From the falsehood of subaltern 
the latter the falsehood of the former follows ; opposition, 
though from the falsehood of the former nothing follows 
concerning the latter. 

All men are poets. A. 

Some men are not poets. 0. 

No men are poets. E. 

Some men are poets. I. 

Here it will be seen that in each case, if either of the 
two opposites be true, the other must be false ; if either be 
false, the other must be true ; and that one must 



Contradic- 



be false and the other true. This is the strongest tory opposi 



tion- 



kind of opposition. This kind of inference is 

useful in cases where, though it would not be convenient, 

perhaps not possible, to prove the truth or falsehood of a 



126 PSYCHOLOGY. 

particular proposition, we may nevertheless easily prove 
Value of in- the truth or falsehood of its opposite; and if the 
meansof 7 opposition is of the kind that serves our pur- 
opposition. pose, we may draw an immediate inference from 
the proposition proved as to the truth or falsehood of its 
opposite. Thus in any argument we say sometimes, " It 
is impossible to prove a negative." This is not always 
true, but it is sometimes true. In such a case as this, if 
we can find means to prove the truth of the contradictory 
of the proposition we wish to negative, this is equivalent 
to disproving the proposition in question, since the truth 
of the contradictory implies the falsehood of its opposite. 

CONVERSION. 

By this we mean the changing of places of the subject 
and predicate, in such a way that the Converse is an infer- 
Oonversion ence from the Convertend. This is the only 
defined. kind of illative conversion, or that in which an 

inference may be drawn from the original proposition to 
its converse. Thus, — 

Some men are wise beings ; 
Some wise beings are men, — 

is an illative conversion, since the latter proposition is a 
necessary and obvious inference from the former. 

All dogs are animals ; 
All animals are dogs, — 

this is conversion, but it is not illative ; there is no 
inference of the latter from the former. 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 127 

The general rule governing the logical character of 
conversion is that no term must be distributed Ru j e for 
in the converse which was not distributed in conversion. 
the convertend. 

Conversion, in .order to be logical, then, sometimes re- 
quires a change in quantity or quality. Hence the follow- 
ing different kinds of conversion. 

1. Simple Conversion is when there is no change simple 
either in quantity or quality, as, — conversion. 

Some Orientals are Christians ; 
Some Christians are Orientals. 

No men are angels ; 
No angels are men. 

2. Conversion by limitation, or per accidens, as it is some- 
times called, is when the quantity is changed conversion 
from universal to particular. by limitation. 

All Germans are Europeans ; 
All Europeans are Germans. 

Here we could not make the inference by simple con- 
version that all Europeans are Germans. In no case are 
we warranted by the form of the conversion to infer a uni- 
versal affirmative from a universal affirmative, or A from A. 
But there are cases in which we know more than certain cases 

the form of the proposition implies, or know that whe f. e * he 

x r r predicate, 

the predicate, though not distributed in form, is though not 

distributed in fact; as in the proposition, "All Jributed/fs 

men are rational animals." Here we know that so m fact. 

men are all the rational animals there are, though the form 



128 PSYCHOLOGY. 

indicates nothing of the kind. Hence we are justified in 
saying that " All rational animals are men." But ordinar- 
ily we can convert A only by limitation. 

3. Conversion by negation or contra-position is when 
the quality is changed. This is a somewhat 
awkward process, but nevertheless violates no 
law of thought. Take, for instance, the proposition, — 

Some men are not poets. 

We cannot infer from this that some poets are not men, 
but we can change the quality without changing the sense. 

Some men are non-poets ; or 

Some men are persons who are not poets. 

That is, we transfer the negative particle from the copula 
to the predicate, and thus make an affirmative proposition 
of what was before a negative. We may now convert 
simply, — 

Some persons who are not poets are men ; or 

Some non-poets are men. 

This method of inference by Conversion, like that by 

Opposition, is useful in many instances where it might not 

utility of ^e convenient, or perhaps possible, to prove a 

inference by certain proposition, but where we might easily 
conversion. . ; . -i 

prove its converse, and, this being proved, we 
can easily infer the needed judgment. 

MEDIATE INFERENCE. 

Three judg- As previously indicated, most of our reason- 
voived, but to m g involves three judgments. These are not 

have some re- an% . -judgments selected at random or arbitra- 
tion to & J o 
each other, rily. Thus, if we say, — 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 129 

An army is a military organization ; 
Washington was a patriot, — 

we can infer nothing, since they have no such relation to 
each other as to imply a third. But when we say, — 

All horses are vertebrates ; 
All Shetland ponies are horses ; 
\ • All Shetland ponies are vertebrates, — 

we see at a glance that the relations of the first two propo- 
sitions are such that the last inevitably follows. 
Also, if we should say, — 

No men are angels ; 
All Americans are men ; 
v No Americans are angels,. — 

we should be compelled to acknowledge that if the first 
two propositions are true, the last must be true also. 

Mediate Reasoning is a process of the mind. When ex- 
pressed in language it is called an Argument. An argu- 
ment in regular form is a Syllogism. The syllo- Reasoning, 
gism consists of two parts ; namely, that from andsyUo*' 
which the proof proceeds, and that which is gism- 
proved. The former consists of two propositions called 
Premises. The latter is the Conclusion. The p rem i SeS and 
premises are Major and Minor. conclusions. 

There are in every syllogism three terms, and only three : 

the Major Term, the Minor Term, and the Middle Term. 

The manor term is the predicate of the conclusion, ,, . 

J • . Major, minor, 

and the minor term the subject of the conclu- and middle 

sion. The middle term is not found in the con- erms ' 



130 PSYCHOLOGY. 

elusion, but is found in botli the premises. The major 
Maior and premise is that proposition in which the major 
minor prem- term is compared with the middle term ; and the 

minor premise, that in which the minor term is 
compared with the middle term. The middle term, as 
Function of w ^ r eadily be seen, is the medium through 
the middle which the relationship between the major and 

minor terms is established. Thus, in the case 
previously given, if some one should hear of oaks for the 
first time, but did not know what they were, and whether 
they were vegetables or not, but should be informed that 
they were trees, and knowing that trees were vegetables, it 
would be seen at once that, taking these two facts together, 
they imply a third; namely, that oaks are vegetables. This 
is brought about by the mediation of the middle term trees. 
The great general principle of syllogistic reasoning is 
Aristotle's dictum, that " Whatever is affirmed or denied 
Dictum of °f an y class taken distributively can be affirmed 
Anstotie. or deified of every class and every individual 
contained in that class." Sir William Hamilton, also, has 
Hamilton's a maxim of general application to the effect that 
maxim. u Whatever may be affirmed or denied of a whole 

may be affirmed or denied of each of its parts." Dr. Hop- 
Dr. Hopkins's kins does n °t accept these as applicable to all 
objection. kinds of syllogisms, or to all kinds of proposi- 
tions from which inferences may be drawn. It is probable 
that, so far as the strict form is concerned, he is correct. 
Certainly it is not precisely on either of these principles 
that we proceed in the following deduction : 

A is equal to B ; 

C is equal to A ; 

v C is equal to B ; — 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 131 

but rather on the mathematical axiom that things equal to 
a third thing are equal to each other. A certainly is not 
in this case a part of B, nor is it contained in it, except by 
a rather strained construction of language. The same is 
true of C in relation to A. Still instances of this kind are 
so rare that they may be regarded as exceptional, and the 
dictum and maxim hold good generally. 

But we are to take note that reasoning is by no means 
generally so simple as this. An important question can 
seldom be settled by a single syllogism, nor by Reasonin „ 
two, nor by half a dozen ; frequently not by a not usually 
score of syllogisms. Many pages, and some- intheex 6 .^ 
times Avhole volumes, have to be written to prove am P les g^en. 
a single proposition. A series of arguments in which the 
conclusion of one becomes the premise of another 
has to be made. Always when one person tries find some 
to convince another of the truth of a proposition, o^hfchthey 
he must find one or more propositions on which agree, to rea- 
they both agree. Unless this can be done, argu- argument is 
ment must be useless. Having ascertained such useless - 
a basis of agreement, the process must often be a long one, 
and by a series of inferences involving an equal number of 
syllogisms before the conclusion is reached. 

Sometimes the main syllogism leading to the final con- 
clusion is formally set forth, and its reasoning is seen to 
be unimpeachable ; but the premises are not The reason . 
admitted by the other party to the discussion, imjmaybe 
One or both of them in that case must be premises 
proved. This implies an argument, and proba- false ' 
bly a number of arguments, in their support. Thus, if it 
were a question whether a protective tariff were a proper 
policy for a nation to adopt, the argument might be form- 
ally stated somewhat as follows : 



132 PSYCHOLOGY. 

All measures that tend to promote home production 
are beneficial ; 
■ A protective tariff does this ; 
v A protective tariff is beneficial. 

The reasoning here is without a flaw. But the difficulty 
would be that the two parties to the discussion are not 
agreed on the truth of the premises. Possibly both might 
agree to the truth of the major premise ; but the truth of 
the minor would certainly be denied by some. Hence, 
the necessity of proving it — that is, of proving the minor 
premise in the foregoing syllogism. Supposing it to be 
attempted in the following syllogism : 

Every policy that increases the number of industries 

promotes home production ; 
A protective tariff does this ; 
v It promotes home production. 
Here, again, the reasoning is correct ; but the opponent 
may deny one of these premises — more likely the minor 
— which, in turn, must be supported by argument ; and 
so on till the parties get back to propositions concerning 
which they agree. This will be further complicated by 
the fact that in most of our reasoning, even that which is 
in form demonstrative, we arrive at conclusions that are 
only more or less probable. Hence we prove the propo- 
sition we wish to establish, usually, not by a single course 
of argumentation, but by several lines, each terminating 
in a probability of approximating certainty, the aggregate 
probabilities making one still more nearly certain. 

KINDS OF SYLLOGISMS. 

Syllogisms are divided into Categorical and Hypothetical. 

Categorical syllogisms are such as those we have been 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 133 

hitherto considering. They are syllogisms in which the 
premises and conclusions are simple unconditional con- 
clusions. 

A Hypothetical syllogism is one in which the reasoning 
turns on a hypothesis, or a supposition. A syllogism may 
contain hypothetical judgments, and }^et not be Hypothetical 
a hypothetical syllogism, for the reason that the syllogisms, 
inference does not turn upon the hypothesis. As, for 
instance : 

A is either BorC; 

D is A; 
•.• D is either B or C. 

Here the reasoning does not turn on the hypothesis ; 
hence it is not a hypothetical syllogism. 

Hypothetical syllogisms are divided into Conditional, 
Disjunctive, and Dilemmatic. 

A Conditional syllogism is one which has a conditional 
judgment for its major premise, and the affirmation or 
denial of one of its members for the minor pre- conditional 
mise. The nature of the conditional syllogism syllogisms, 
is such that : (a) If the antecedent of the major be affirmed 
in the minor, the consequent must be affirmed in the con- 
clusion. (6) If the consequent be denied, the 
antecedent must be also denied. (<?) If the 
antecedent be denied or the consequent affirmed, nothing 
follows. 

If Mr. Jones is a drunkard he is unfit for a clergyman ; 
He is a drunkard ; 
v He is unfit for a clergyman. 

Here the assertion of the truth of the antecedent necessi- 



134 PSYCHOLOGY. 

tates the assertion of the truth of the consequent. But if 
we put it thus : 

If Mr. Jones is a drunkard he is unfit for a clergyman ; 
He is not unfit for a clergyman ; 
v He is not a drunkard, — 

we see at once that the denial of the consequent necessi- 
tates the denial of the antecedent. But if we should 
deny the antecedent and assert : 

He is not a drunkard, — 

we cannot then infer that he is not unfit for a clergyman, 
because there may be other disqualifications. For in- 
stance, he may be ignorant, or fraudulent, or profane — 
either of which characteristics would render him unfit. 
So, also, if we assert the truth of the consequent, and say : 
He is unfit for a clergyman, — 

it does not follow that he is a drunkard, because, as just 
shown, there may be other causes of unfitness. 

A Disjunctive syllogism is founded on the principle 
that of two contradictions, one must be true, and the other 
false. It consists of a disjunctive judgment as its major 
Principle of premise, an assertion or denial of one of the 
^fo^ii!! 10 " members as its minor, and the natural inference 

tive syllo- ' 

gism. as its conclusion. The disjunction of the major 

must be genuine ; that is, the members must be mutually 
exclusive. If one be true, the other or others must be 
false. Thus : 

It is either clear or cloudy, or partly both. 

If we assert it is either, then it cannot be one or both 
of the others. 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 135 

In disjunctive syllogisms we may reason either from the 
denial of one member to the affirmation of 
the other member or members ; or we may 
reason from the affirmation of one to the denial of the 
others. 

He either crossed the stream, or he is on this side of it ; 
He did not cross the stream ; 
v He is on this side of it. 

This is an instance of the former, and is called Modus tollen- 
modus tollendo ponens — establishing one by doponens. 
destroying the other. 

He either crossed the stream, or he is on this side of it ; 
He is on this side of it ; 
v He did not cross it. 

This is an instance of the latter method — the Modus ponen- 
modus ponendo tolle?is, destroying one by estab- do tollens. 
lishing the other. 

The Dilemmatic syllogism is one which has for its 
major premise a dilemmatic judgment, and for its minor a 
proposition so affirming some member or mem- Dii emma ti C 
bers of the major as to lay the foundation for syllogisms- 
an inference. There are three principal forms. 

1. The major premise may consist of a single ante- 
cedent with a disjunctive consequent; as, If A is B, 
either C is D or E is F. Affirm the antecedent, 
A is B, and the disjunctive consequent, either 
C is D or E is F, follows. Deny the consequent wholly, 
and the antecedent must be denied. If neither C is D 
nor E is F, then A is not B. If, however, only one mem- 



136 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ber of the consequent be denied, nothing follows concern- 
ing the antecedent. 

2. There may be a plurality of antecedents in the 

major with only one common consequent. If A is B, X is 

Y ; and if C is D, X is Y. Or it may be stated 
Second form. . „ . . 

m one proposition ; It A -is B or C is D, X is Y. 

In this, if both members of the disjunctive consequent, or 

either one of them, be granted, the consequent follows. 

But if the consequent be denied, all the antecedents must 

be denied. 

3. There may be a plurality of antecedents in the major, 
each with its own consequent. In this case, if the ante- 
cedents be affirmed wholly, the consequents 
must be affirmed wholly ; if the antecedents be 

affirmed disjunctively, then the consequents must be 
affirmed disjunctively. From the denial of the conse- 
quents wholly or disjunctively, the antecedents must be 
denied wholly or disjunctively. 

If A is B, C is D ; 
If E is F, G is H. 
Either A is B, or E is F ; 
v Either C is D, or G is H. 

Famous In the famous oration of Demosthenes for the 

dilemma of ~ . , , . , _ 

Demosthenes Crown, he makes a strong point against JLs- 

liin™ tE,S chines, his rival, in this way: 

"If iEschines did not join in the public rejoicings, he was 
unpatriotic ; 
If he did join in them, he was inconsistent ; 
But he either did or did not join; 
v He was either unpatriotic or inconsistent." 



REASONING AND INFERENCE. 137 

It may be thought by some that syllogisms of this form 
contain four judgments ; but this is only apparent, since 
the first two judgments are only different members of the 
major premise, and can without difficulty be combined in 



138 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER V. 

INDUCTION. 



Oun definition of reasoning implies that we proceed from 

established facts to others not previously established or 

„ known. But how are we to ascertain the facts 

How we are 

to ascertain from which we are to proceed ? This is done by 
which to observation and investigation. One of the prin- 



cipal methods of investigation by which we come 
into possession of facts is Induction. For this reason Dr. 
Hopkins and others place it before Deduction in the order 
of treatment, and there are no doubt good scientific grounds 
for following this order. I have not done so, for the reason 
that the doctrine of inference and reasoning seems to me 
more easily apprehended in the study of deduction first. 

Induction is the mental process by which we conclude that 
what is true of certain individuals cf a class is true of the 
Meaning of whole class, or that what is true at certain times 
induction- w ffl fr e f rue a t a \i times. 1 Thus I have seen a 
great many crows during my life, and have heard of many 
others. All that I have ever seen or heard of have been 
black, therefore I conclude that all crows are black. It is 
in this way that we form a large proportion of our opinions. 
But it will be seen at once that this is by no means an ab- 
solutely certain method of inference. At one time in my 
life I believed that all swans were white, from the fact 
that all the swans I had ever seen or heard of were white. 
Later I have heard of black swans, and have even seen 

1 J. Stuart Mill. 



INDUCTION. 139 

them. It is barely possible that I may sometime learn that 

there are white crows. 

It is true that when we find that a certain quality or fact 

can be predicated of a considerable number of a class, while 

no individuals of the class are known of which it 

A fair pre- 

cannot be predicated, a fair presumption is af- sumption 
forded that it may be predicated of the whole 
class. Still, such reasoning is far from conclusive, unless 
there are other determining principles. 

There are two such principles in the application of which 
we may be definitely certain of our conclusion. One is 
that in which the conclusion rests on the basis „ , „ .. 

Two definite 

of an enumeration of every individual in the determining 
class. Thus, for instance, if a military company 
is under consideration, and I have ascertained by actual 
measurement of each man that he is six feet tall, I may 
assert with entire confidence that the company is com- 
posed of men six feet in height. This is called Formal In- 
duction. But I do not see anything to be gained in calling 
it induction at all, or any other kind of inference. It is 
simply an aggregate of observations. 

The second principle is that when the cause of the quality 
which we have observed in a few individuals is known to 
exist in all the individuals of the class, we may Princi le of 
certainly know that the quality, or effect of that a common 
cause, will be common to all. A familiar in- 
stance is that of the planets, which are all presumed to 
revolve about the sun in elliptical orbits. This is true, 
not only of those already discovered, and whose orbits have 
been calculated, but it is inferred to be true of such, if such 
there be, not discovered. We are confident that when any 
new planets are discovered hereafter, they will be found 



140 PSYCHOLOGY. 

to move in elliptical orbits. The reason for this is, that 
when centripetal and centrifugal forces act jointly on a 
planet, the resultant must be an elliptical orbit. Hence 
the conclusion that the orbits of all planets discovered 
heretofore, or to be discovered hereafter, are in the form 
of an ellipse. So in all other cases where a particular 
quality is found to be the effect of a cause which is known 
to be present in all the individuals of a class, then this 
quality may be legitimately inferred to belong to the 
whole class. 

There has been a difference of opinion concerning the 
underlying axiom of induction. A certain considerable class 
Theunderly- have assumed it to be that Nature is always 
ing axiom. uniform in its operations. But this is so far 
from being an axiom, that it is not only denied to be true 
by many reputable thinkers, but it has not been believed 
by the majority of men. Certainly to any who believe in 
an Infinite Personal Ruler of the universe, it is very far 
from being a necessary principle. Others assert that the 
Uniformity underlying axiom is that of the uniformity of 
of causation, causation; namely, that the same cause under 
the same conditions will always produce the 
same effect. This is about as self-evident as any proposi- 
tion that can be laid down ; it compels universal belief. It 
will be seen that the second principle of induction presented 
above harmonizes with this self-evident truth ; or, rather, it 
is the application of this more general principle to induction. 

Dr. Hopkins denies that inductive reasoning can be 
conduction brought under the form of the syllogism. Other 
be brought authorities take the opposite view. It seems to 
form of the me that the latter are theoretically right, though 
syllogism? induction, when forced into the form of a syl- 



INDUCTION. 141 

logism, is a very clumsy, and probably needless, method of 
presentation. Take the following example : — 

X, Y, and Z are black ; 

But X, Y, and Z represent all crows ■•■ 
v All crows are black. 
But in order to prove that X, Y, and Z represent all crows 
in such a way as to render this inference certain, it would 
be necessary to make another argument, which, reduced to 
a syllogistic form, would be something after this fashion : — 

The same cause under the same conditions will always 

produce the same effect ; 
But the same cause which makes X, Y, and Z black exists 

in all crows ; 
v X, Y, and Z in this respect represent all crows. 

It is probable that some such process goes on in the mind 
in every case of complete and certain induction. Still 
very few would care to express it in form, or find any use 
in such expression. For the more exact kind of induc- 
tion there are rules and criteria for which we have not 
space, but which may be found in treatises on Logic. 

This exact method of induction is not used much in 
the common affairs of men, nor even exclusively in scien- 
tific investigations. The inductive reasoning _ . . 
among uneducated persons, and to a certain tionnot 
extent among those considerably cultivated, is ordinary af- 
of a looser, freer kind, but from which great fai "° fm3n - 
practical results are secured. Thus in ordinary life we 
judge many objects and events, not with perfect Great racti . 
accuracy, and yet with entire confidence, and cal value of 
without misgiving. " We judge of the taste f ec t induc- 
and quality of the food or fruits which we eat, tlon ' 



142 PSYCHOLOGY. 

not only by eating one part and inferring in respect to the 
remainder, but before eating, by an induction founded on 
the qualities which we discern by our other senses — i. e., 
by peculiarities of form, structure, color, and smell. We 
accept or reject, we desire or loathe, that which has not 
been tried, through our confidence in those carefully ob- 
served indications. We do the same with articles of 
medicine. We do not care to try each fresh piece of rhu- 
barb, or take of every new parcel of arsenic or strychnine, 
to be convinced by actual experience, that the signs by 
which we have known the substance to be rhubarb or 
strychnine show that it will act medicinally, or destroy 
life. We do not caress a ferocious-looking dog, or come 
near a horse that makes vicious demonstrations, upon the 
wise suggestion that experience has not taught us that 
this particular dog will bite, or this horse kick ; but we 
give both of them a wide berth, on the ground of observa- 
tion or testimony in regard to others like them. We learn 
by trial, that certain kinds of soil and certain processes of 
culture are favorable to the vine, the strawberry, the rose, 
and the tulip. We derive rules which we assume will 
always apply to these plants. In the department of sci- 
ence we develop oxygen and hydrogen from a quantity of 
water, and believe that water, whenever treated in a simi- 
lar way, will give the same gases. By certain broader 
assumptions we conclude that electricity causes the phe- 
nomena of lightning ; that gravitation holds the heavenly 
bodies in their places, and moves them in their orbits. 
These various kinds of knowledge are examples, as they 
are the results of the several assumptions referred to." * 
Analogy and Experience are also involved as bases of rea- 

1 Dr. Noali Porter: The Human Intellect. 



INDUCTION. 143 

soning. Some writers separate these entirely from induc- 
tion ; but they seem to be subsidiary processes ^ na i ogy an( i 
rather than independent methods. " In analogy experiencs. 
we reason from individual to individual on the ground of 
observed similarity in certain points. ... In induction 
we reason from several individuals and form a class, or 
infer a law ; in analogy we reason from one or more indi- 
viduals to an individual, and infer a resemblance in unob- 
served qualities or particulars." 1 We have known several 
men with a peculiar kind of brogue whom we knew to be 
Irishmen. We meet a stranger of whom we know noth- 
ing, but we notice that he has the same quality of speech ; 
we infer that he is an Irishman. We have for years 
observed that a storm occurs about the time of the au- 
tumnal equinox. We confidently anticipate the recur- 
rence of a similar event in the future years. Still there 
are a great many cases in which conclusions from analogy 
cannot be drawn with any assurance. Some have gone so 
far as to say that the principal use of analogy Useofanai- 
is in establishing a possibility. For instance, if J|J i 1 °J , J tab " 
a man in maintaining the doctrine of the abso- possibility, 
lute uniformity of Nature should assert that nothing 
which man can do can so affect Nature that she will do 
anything which she would not have done if man had done 
nothing ; — it might be replied that in the growing of 
corn Nature does all that is done in the production of the 
plant, the ear, and the grain, no matter what man may do. 
Man cannot create a single kernel of the corn, nor a sin- 
gle leaf of the stalk, or the tiniest particle of pollen. Still 
Nature would do nothing of all this if man should not 
furnish certain conditions, such as the preparation of the 

1 Dr. Hopkins. 



144 PSYCHOLOGY. 

soil, and the planting of the seed. This may not prove 
the main point of the negative argument ; but it quite 
disproves the subsidiary position of the other party by 
showing that what he had laid down as impossible is not 
only possible but actual. It will be found that in many 
cases of induction, analogy comes largely into play. 

Experience differs from analogy in this, that, instead of 
reasoning from observation merely, we reason from phe- 
Howexperi- nomena of which we are ourselves the subjects, 
fromanai^ or ' at ^ east ' which affect ourselves. True, much 
ogy. of what is called reasoning from experience is 

really something else. We say frequently, for instance, 
that we know by experience that fire will burn. This is 
not true ; we only know by experience that fire has burned 
in the past, or possibly that it burns now. We infer from 
this experience that it will burn in the future. It is on 
this ground alone that " the burnt child dreads the fire." 
In much of our common induction, experience is an essen- 
tial element. 

We have already seen something of the operations of 
the principle of induction in ordinary life, and among 
induction uneducated people. They furnish a multitude 

among the of inferences which are of great practical con- 
uneducated- , , P 

venience, but are not always of any scien- 
tific value. " Their results are seen in the common sense 
and common prudence which are essential to the per- 
formance of the common acts and duties of common life. 
By means of them, men interpret the signs of the material 
universe, the disposition and acts of the brute creation, as 
well as the thoughts and feelings of their fellows by looks 
and actions. Uncommon skill and readiness in interpret- 
ing such indications is termed acuteness, discernment, 



INDUCTION. 145 

sagacity, tact. Less than the usual sagacity to make such 
inductions quickly and correctly is denominated slowness 
and stupidity. The average capacity is called common 
sense in one of the senses of this widely-used appellation." x 
In scientific induction the process is more difficult. Yet 
most of the scientific discoveries, great and numerous as 
they have been, of the last few centuries, have Achieve- 
been achieved through this process. The in- "^ifi" in- 
stances are abundant, though not all of them duction. 
easily understood by the unscholarly mind. The discovery 
of carbonic acid gas by Dr. Black is a comparatively sim- 
ple one. Dr. Porter gives the following account Discover of 
of it. He had observed " that caustic lime in- carbonic acid 
creased in weight when changed into common 
lime, and he inferred that this weight must be derived 
from some agent of or in the atmosphere. This suggested 
the thought that the other alkalies, being like caustic 
lime in other properties, were like it also in this. The 
experiment was tried, and the suggestion was found to be 
correct. This put him upon the inquiry what the agent 
was that entered into combination with all these sub- 
stances. The inquiry resulted in the separation of carhonic 
acid gas as a newly discovered agent, and the determina- 
tion of its properties and laws.'" Other equally and some 
more important results obtained through analogous pro- 
cesses will suggest themselves to many minds : such as 
the remarkable identification of electricity and lightning 
by Franklin, Lavoisier's discovery of oxygen, Galileo's, 
Copernicus', and Kepler's astronomical achievements, and 
the still more familiar one of Newton's determination of 
universal gravitation. 

1 Dr. Noah Porter. 



146 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. 

The difference between these two kinds of proof is as 
follows : 

In Demonstrative Reasoning we start with necessary trnths. 
These are abstract statements, and refer to conceptions, 
Demonstra- and not to realities ; and to relations of things 
probaWe rea- ra ther than to the things themselves. Every 
soning. s tep in the argument follows inevitably from the 

preceding ; every conclusion is irresistible. 

Probable Reasoning starts from facts, and proves facts. 
We do not, as in demonstrative reasoning, have intuitive 
evidence at every step ; it therefore admits of degrees of 
many shades of approximation to certainty, from the 
slightest probability up to assurance as strong as demon- 
stration. For when we speak of -probable proof we are 
The term not to be misled by the phraseology. The 
liabTeto'mis- term used to characterize this kind of reasoning 
lead. is undoubtedly unfortunate ; however, if we 

understand that it is not to be taken in its unmodified 
meaning, it will answer our purpose. Probable reasoning, 
while not demonstrative in the sense of giving intuitive 
or mathematical certainty at every step or in the conclu- 
sion, nevertheless may give practical certainty as little 
it may give disputable as the conclusion of a mathematical 
practical cer- demonstration. The man who would deny or 
doubt the past existence of Napoleon Bona- 



DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. 147 

parte or of George Washington would be regarded as not 
less preposterous or idiotic than he who should doubt or 
deny that the sum of the three angles of a triangle is 
equivalent to the sum of two right angles, or that the sum 
of the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled 
triangle is equivalent to the square of the hypothenuse. 

The evidence in this kind of inference is mainly of 
three kinds ; namely, Analogy, . Experience, and Testimony. 
Of the first two we have already spoken. It Three kinds 
is desirable to consider the latter to some extent, of evidence, 
though a full discussion of this important subject within 
the limits of our space is not possible. 

THE EVIDENCE OF TESTIMONY. 

The statement of a witness concerning a fact of which 
he has been the observer, is to be regarded as probable in 
itself, or unless there be positive reason to the statement of 
contrary. We naturally believe what is told p^We'fo 
us. The child has no doubts respecting the itself, 
veracity of a person who professes to give him informa- 
tion. It is only as one learns by painful experience that 
there are false statements, that one grows cautious and 
sceptical. Hence one rule laid down for testing testi- 
mony is, that if there is no motive for deception, and 
especially if there be positive motives for speaking the 
truth, a witness is to be believed. 

Testimony gathers strength from the substantial agree- 
ment of different witnesses having different points of 
view, and with possibly different biasses or Substantial 
prejudices. It has been said that it is possible agreement of 
to conceive of a number of independent wit- 
nesses so great, and so widely differing in character and 



148 PSYCHOLOGY. 

relation to the subject of testimony, that the falsity of that 
in which they agree shall be mathematically more improb- 
able than the truth of any statement they may make, 

ivhatever it may be. 

LIMITATIONS. 

Many things are to be taken into account in estimating 
the value of testimony. Among these are the reputation 
Thin stobe °^ tne w ^ ness ^ or veracity, the soundness of 
taken into his judgment, his ability to discriminate be- 
tween points of importance on which the case 
may turn, his conscious or unconscious prejudices, the 
lapse of time between the event and the giving of testi- 
mony, the strength or weakness of his memory, the con- 
sistency or coherency of his statements, the condition of 
his powers of perception, etc. It is to be observed that 
Possible de- the witness may be of unimpeachable veracity, 
honest*" an an( ^ y e ^ ne ma y err * n ^ s judgment concerning 
witness- certain appearances, or concerning the relation 

of facts, or the time of an event, or the distance, color, 
size, or other general characteristics of certain objects 
which are in more or less vital connection with the main 
subject. The value of his testimony may be impaired by 
any of these defects. But where none of these exist, 
where the judgment of the testator is good, his memory 
Absurdity of U P to ^e usua l standard, and where there is no 
rejecting tes- evident bias or prejudice, and no discernible 
nodefects motive to deception, where the testimony of the 
exist- witness is consistent throughout, — especially 

where it substantially agrees with the testimony of other 
observers of widely different temperaments and under dif- 
ferent conditions, — to conjure up possible doubts and reject 



DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. 149 

all evidence short of demonstration, would be to do away 
with all knowledge of the past, to make history impossi- 
ble, and to prevent all progress in science, literature, or art. 



CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. 

This is a kind of evidence which does not come from 
the direct observation of witnesses, though its data may, 
and generally must, depend on testimony. It Natureof 
has already been remarked that all reasoning circumstan- 
depends upon the fact that in this world cer- 
tain events and phenomena are so connected with certain 
other events and phenomena, that if one of these exists, 
some other one or more must also exist. The connection 
may be that of cause and effect, or of some other kind ; 
but it is such that the cognition of one part necessitates 
cognition of some other part of the connected facts or 
events. If a stone comes through my window, I know 
that some force must have impelled it. If I have left a 
book on my table and stepped out of my room, and on my 
return the book is gone, I am just as certain that some one 
has taken it away as though I had been present and wit- 
nessed the act. As we say familiarly, and yet not unphil- 
osophically : " It did not go of itself." 

Dr. Wayland gives some very simple rules Dr w 
governing this kind of evidence, which I take land's rules, 
the liberty to transcribe. 

1. " When we are not inquiring for a fact, but for the 
cause of it, the fact itself must first be established. Thus, 
if it be required to prove that A murdered B, we must 
first prove that B has been murdered, and prove it by 
direct evidence. 



150 PSYCHOLOGY. 

2. " In the second place, all the facts on which we rely- 
to prove the fact in question must be established by direct 
evidence. Thus, if we rely on the facts A, B, D, to prove 
the fact C, — that is, these facts being proved, that the 
fact C must have existed, — we must prove the facts A, 
B, and D by the personal knowledge of the witnesses 
themselves. 

3. " We must show that the facts A, B, and D could 
not have existed unless the fact C had existed. When we 
have established these facts, and shown that they can be 
accounted for on no other supposition than the existence 
of the fact C, — that is, that unless the fact C occurred, a 
law of nature has been violated, — then we have proved 
this fact by indirect evidence." 

Application ^ r " Wayland goes on to apply these rules in 
of these a concrete case. 

" B is found alone in a room, dead, stabbed in 
the back, and his skull fractured by the stroke of a blud- 
geon. The first thing to be established is that the man is 
dead ; and secondly, that his death was occasioned by the 
wounds upon his person; and thirdly, that the wounds 
could not have been inflicted by himself ; that is, that he 
died by the hand of another, and not by his own. These 
facts must be proved by direct evidence. It is thus 
shown that the man was murdered. The question next to 
be answered is, Who was the murderer? 

" Here it is shown that A and B unlocked the door and 
entered the room together. A noise, as of an altercation, 
was heard. No one entered the room till A left it, and 
the first person that entered it after his departure 
found B dead in the manner described. Now, these 
facts having been described, it is proved that A is the 



DEMONSTRATIVE AND PROBABLE REASONING. 151 

murderer. B died of these wounds. They could have 
been inflicted by no person except A, or B himself. 
They are so situated that B himself could not have 
inflicted them on himself ; they must, therefore, have 
been inflicted by A." 



PART IV. 



THE REGULATIVE FACULTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

NATURE OF THE REGULATIVE COGNITIONS. 

In our discussions hitherto we have frequently made use 
of such terms as "being," "substance," "time," "space," 
"resemblance," and others of somewhat similar Terms pre- 
import. But we have not at all considered their J„ t u 1 2™ ed ' 
origin or their nature. Possibly we have not plained, 
all observed, what is true, that none of these cognitions 
have been in any way accounted for among the products 
of the faculties and powers of the mind that have, so far, 
come under our notice. They evidently arise from some 
other power, separate and distinct from all of them. They 
are very important cognitions, and furnish conditions for 
most of the knowledge which we gain, and are essential to 
all profitable and efficient intellectual action. For this 
reason it might seem more scientific to have discussed them 
first. Dr. Hopkins does this, following out strictly Ms 
policy of taking the conditioning and conditioned succes- 
sively, and in the order which these words imply. The 
reason why I have not thought this best for my Reasonfor 
purpose is, that the operations and products of pot consider- 
the mind here implied are more abstruse and dif- cognitions 
ficult of apprehension than the others, and it earher - 
seemed better to defer the consideration of them till the 
pupil should become more familiar with psychologic terms 
and facts. 

As has been intimated, these cognitions do not come to 



156 PSYCHOLOGY. 

us through any of the faculties which we have, up to this 
time, examined. We do not perceive them; 
come to us they are not the product of the Inner-Sense, 
ofthe^powers though this may make us aware of their exist- 
previously ence, as it does of other facts and operations of 
the soul. They are not given by the represent- 
ative faculty, as this gives us nothing which had not been 
previously in the mind, and therefore does not account for 
their origin. Elaboration cannot produce them, since they 
are not directly implied in any of the conceptions or judg- 
ments with which this faculty deals ; and yet, without these 
as a condition, probably most of our reasoning would be 
futile. Nearly all modern philosophers have referred them 
to a separate power, and the few who have not done so 
have found it necessary to treat them as a distinct and 
peculiar class of mental products. 

There are three characteristics of these cognitions which 
it is well to bear in mind. 1. They arise from the energy 
Th h °$ ^ ie m ^ n< ^ it se lf- They are not given through 

three char- the senses, nor by the testimony of others, nor 
acteristics- ,11 p ■ 1 . .• 

through any process 01 comparison, abstraction, 

generalization, or inference. We simply know them at 
once and distinctly ; we know them because we are so con- 
stituted, and because, when the time comes for us to know 
them, we cannot help knowing them, — they force them- 
selves into our. consciousness. It is from this fact that they 
get the name of necessary cognitions or ideas. 

2. As just intimated, ive know them when the time comes 
to knoiv them. They are under regulation, as well as being 
regulative. They have their occasions and conditions, and 
come only on these occasions and under these conditions. 
They do not arise hap-hazard. There is always a reason 



NATURE OF REGULATIVE COGNITIONS. 157 

for them, though there is no cause of them save the con- 
stitutional energies of the mind. The laws which govern 
them are as well ascertained and denned as any other 
scientific principles. 

3. The third characteristic of these cognitions is their 
absolute certainty. There is no knowledge which we ever 
have that is more certain than these, and most of our knowl- 
edge depends for its certainty upon an utter assurance of 
the truth of these cognitions. 

We can perhaps get a somewhat clearer idea of what is 

meant, by taking Substance as one of these ideas, which 

is never revealed to the mind by any out- 0riginofthe 

ward or inward observation, and is only known idea of 

intuitively by the energy of the mind itself. An 

object is presented to me. I see the color ; by touching it 

I become aware of a yielding mass, yet not fluid, and of a 

smooth surface ; also, in connection with sight, perhaps, of 

the size and shape. I also inhale its odor, and become aware 

what it is. If I taste it, I shall also perceive its flavor. 

Now these qualities all appeal to the senses, and through 

them, as we say, we perceive or know the object. But what 

is it that we know? Not merely color, odor, flavor, size, 

and form, but something to which these belong, and of which 

these are qualities. This something we do not see, nor 

hear, nor touch, nor smell, nor taste. We do not cognize it 

through the senses, nor by any of the means by which we 

know qualities and characteristics. Still we We know 

know quite as well as we know any of those, — substance 

probably better, for we may mistake about the aS) and prob- 

qualities, but never mistake about the fact of ably better 
x # than, we 

something in which those inhere. We know knowquali- 

that which we call substance immediately when 



158 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the object is presented. There is no intervening process ; 
it is by a peculiar power of the mind. It is not caused by 
the sensation or the presentation, but these furnish the 
occasion; they are a condition sine qua non. 

It may seem to many that this cognition of substance is 
an inference ; that it is implied in the fact that qualities 
Not an exist; that we cannot conceive a quality with- 

inference. on t a substance. The last two propositions are 
undoubtedly true, but they beg the question. How do we 
know that qualities imply a substance ? or why is it that 
we cannot conceive qualities without substance ? It is this 
very knowledge which is the subject of our present inves- 
tigation. The mind itself furnishes this knowledge always 
A necessar anc ^ i n8tant ty on the presentation of the quali- 
idea, and es- ties. Herein is the necessary character of this 
ail other cognition, and its essential relation to all other 
knowledge- knowledge. Perception is not complete till the 
mind has furnished that cognition to co-operate with that 
which comes through the senses. 

By Substance here is not meant merely material substance. 

"Sub tift" Whatever is the basis of phenomena of any sort, 

not confined — whether qualities or energies, — that of which 

they are the phenomena is substance, whether 

material or immaterial. 



THE REGULATIVE FACULTY. 159 



CHAPTER II. 

THE FACULTY WHICH FURNISHES THESE 
COGNITIONS. 

Philosophers are not at all agreed as to the name of 
this faculty. Dr. Hopkins denies that it is a faculty at 
all ; and according to his definition of faculty „ 
it is not. He limits the faculties to those opera- ment as to 
tions of the mind which are at the command of 
the will. But he uses the word poiver instead of faculty, 
and it would seem that according to Dr. Hopkins's own 
philosophy will is implied in poiver quite as much as in 
faculty. But our nomenclature is greatly defective, not 
only in this respect, but with reference to certain other 
psychologic terms. 

Hamilton calls it the Regulative Faculty, and. this name, 
seems as good as any, if we are to regard it as a faculty. 
Intuition is a term widely used by some of the R egu i at i ve 
best authorities. The only objection to this is faculty. 
that intuition has a wider meaning. As used at present 
it includes all that knowledge of which the immediate 
object is the individual, whether given by per- objection to 
ception, by the inner-sense, or by the energy of intultlon -" 
the mind itself. It is for this reason ambiguous, and 
possibly misleading when applied to the source of the 
cognitions under consideration. 

Reason is adopted by many writers as the proper term to 



160 PSYCHOLOGY. 

be used. The objection to this is again that of ambiguity. 
Objection to -^ ^ s ver 7 a P^ to ^ e confounded with Reasoning, 
"reason." anc [ it is very natural from the analogies of our 
language to think that while Reasoning is the process, 
Reason must be the faculty which reasons. Still it is 
one of the terms which has great weight of authority 
in its favor. 

The Common Sense was the designation adopted by some 
of the Scotch philosophers. This would be an appropriate 
"The com- title as representing a power universally pos- 
mon sense." sessed by men. The difficulty with it is that 
the term is pre-occupied with another meaning ; namely, 
" that perception, apparently without a process, by which 
the average man comes to apprehend the common relations, 
and to conform himself to the common proprieties of 
life." Other names have been proposed, but none of them 
are entirely acceptable. The one we have adopted, the 
Regulative Faculty, seems to be about as unobjectionable as 
any, and yet it is not entirely satisfactory. 

The cognitions themselves have had names, if possible, 

General st ^ more numerous. The following are some 

names of the of them : First principles, common anticipations, 

principles of common sense, self-evident truths, 

intuitions, innate ideas, a priori cognitions, etc. 

These ideas or cognitions, while the first in logical 
order, are the last to be learned. That is, while they are 
the condition of all our thinking and knowing, they are 
yet not easily comprehended, and never definitely under- 
stood till the mind has had some discipline and training in 
absolute thought. 



PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 161 



CHAPTER III. 

PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 

BEING. 

If an object, say a tree, is presented to my mind, I shall 
cognize it as something other than myself, and I shall thus 
not only know the object, but know myself as cognition of 
knowing it. In other words, I shall know both existence, 
the object and myself as existing, and this idea of exist- 
ence will henceforth connect itself with every object of 
cognition. It is the idea of Being. This is not given by 
the senses. Through them is furnished to the mind an 
aggregate of qualities and properties, but the notion of 
Being is furnished by the energies of the mind summoned 
to action by the presentation of the object. This idea is 
a universal attribute of all objects, and hence arises with 
every cognition of every sort. 

SPACE. 

When we see any object we simply and instantly know 
that it is in Space and occupies Space; that is, as being 
extended. It would be impossible to cognize cognition of 
a material object, and not think of it as having s P ace - 
this characteristic. There has been a difference of opinion 
among philosophers as to the nature of this cognition. 
Some writers of great repute regard it as a mere subjective 
notion, and as having no existence except in the mind — 



162 PSYCHOLOGY. 

a form which the mind impresses upon outward things. 
s . Others of equal repute regard it as an actual 

jective or entity — not matter and not mind — but yet a 
condition for matter. This latter expression, 
"a condition for matter," gives a third class of opinions of 
eminent thinkers. These regard it not as an entity, and 
yet as a reality. This reality is involved in the reality of 
matter. All kinds of measurements, quantifications of 
matter, all comparisons of bodies with one another, imply 
this. Long, short, tall, high, low, wide, thick, deep, etc., 
are so many designations of the space occupied by the 
bodies to which these terms are applied. Still we could 
not conceive of space had we not first conceived of 
occupants of space. It is true, I think, that we do think 
in a way of space perfectly void, yet in this case we 
probably use the fiction of impalpable infinitely extended 
substance, still utterly unlike any other substance. 

TIME. 

When I see an object as, say, a horse, and my attention 
is diverted, or the object passes out of my sight, and I 
. . f either return to it or it comes again within the 
the notion of range of my vision; or when I observe some 
operation of my mind, and note subsequently 
that this operation recurs, and perhaps repeatedly; or 
when I see a bird, and then another bird, and still another ; 
there comes into my mind in all these cases the idea of 
repetition, of succession, and so of duration of time. As 
space is the condition of being regarded as material and 
extended, so time is the condition of being regarded as in 
movement or change. 

Dr. Brown defines it as the relation of one event to 



PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 163 

another, as prior and subsequent. Professor Haven thinks 
this would imply that it is a mere law of Brown's defi- 
thought, and that it would have no existence Haven's 
independent of the series of events that take objection, 
place in it. This he disputes, and says : " It is not a mere 
law of thought, not a mere conception of the mind, not 
altogether subjective, nor is it a mere relation of one 
event to another in succession. It is, on the contrary, 
necessary to, and prior to, all successions and all events. 
It does not depend on the recurrence of events, but the 
occurrence of events depends on it. As space would still 
exist were matter annihilated, so time would continue 
were events to cease. But were time blotted out there 
were no succession, no recurrence, no event. Time is 
essential not to the mere thought or conception of events, 
but to the possibility of the tiring itself." 

PERSONAL IDENTITY. 

As our cognitions come in succession, and there is an 
actual lapse of time, memory must be called into exercise. 
I am certain of events occurring in the past, „ ... 
and I know that I knew them then. But I ideaorigi- 
cannot be certain of past cognitions without 
being certain that the I that recalls the past cognitions, is 
the same I that was then knowing them. I do not know 
this hy consciousness, for this gives me no knowledge of 
the past — it cognizes only the present operations of .the 
mind, as perceiving, remembering, etc. We can 
no more explain it than we explain the cogni- 
zance of space and time, but we are as absolutely certain 
of the fact as it is possible for us to be of anything. This, 
it must be remembered, is not resemblance or similarity. 



164 PSYCHOLOGY. 

These terms always imply two things. But it is of the 
essence of this cognition, that there is only one and the 
same thing. 

NUMBER. 

If we go back to the remarks concerning Time we shall 
see that in the idea of succession and repetition, there is 
another idea besides that to which attention was particu- 
Natweof larly directed. The very fact that we have 
number. observed it again, would involve a discrimina- 

tion between the observations and the times of them as 
one or two, whether we applied these terms or not. It is 
the same if we observe different objects of the same 
general character, as one house and another house, and 
still others. The idea of Number arises necessarily on such 
an occasion, and it arises from the very constitution of the 
Mathemati- mind, and out of its own energies. Hence all 
cai quantity, measurements of quantity, all equality, differ- 
ence, and proportion. Hence, too, the foundation, occa- 
sion, and matter of mathematics. 

RESEMBLANCE. 

When we notice many objects, it is impossible not to 
observe that some of them are in some respects alike, 
The notion of while others are not. Here arises, by necessity, 
resemblance, the idea of resemblance and difference. Our 
first knowledge is of individual objects or energies. We 
may not, and probably do not, at first, know them to be 
individual, as the distinction is first made after the process 
of generalization and classification has gone on for a time, 
and we have become familiar with general notions. Here, 
as elsewhere, we know very many things that we do not 



PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 165 

realize or comprehend. The child does not begin with a 
section of man or woman or humanity, but with a particu- 
lar man and a particular woman, calling them father and 
mother, though not knowing the general term. He sees 
some other person, and is told that that is a man, and when 
thereafter he sees another similar object, he calls it a man, 
but without in the least realizing that he has generalized 
a class, or formed a conception. Still it is this The basis of 
idea of resemblance as a natural and necessary tion andalT" 
idea asserting itself in his mind, that is the science, 
basis of much thinking and much classification, long be- 
fore he understands the process or is even aware of its 
existence. Out of this necessary idea arise all elaborative 
processes and general scientific methods. 



THE INFINITE. 

This is not set down here as one of the necessary ideas 
with which we are now concerned. Some writers have 
claimed that it belongs here, and I mention it Notaneces- 
partly on that account, and partly to give the sar y ldea " 
views of those who regard it differently. In the estima- 
tion of some of these, this idea arises originally when we 
think about space, and try to conceive of it as bounded or 
limited. This we are unable to do. For, whenever we 
set the limits, no matter how far outside of the material 
universe — if it have any outside — we draw our enclos- 
ing line, we shall inevitably ask ourselves what is beyond 
this line ; and the answer must as inevitably be, more 
space. Thus we cannot think of space as limited, there- 
fore we are compelled to think of it as not limited or 
unlimited — that is, infinite. This, as we see at once, is a 



166 PSYCHOLOGY. 

negative term in its natural and simple meaning, though 
we often give it something of a positive signification in 
our common use of it. It is the not-finite. By the very- 
term we have used, it will be seen that this idea is a prod- 
uct of thought, and not of mere intuition. 

By a very easy method we transfer this process and its 
product to duration or time. We are compelled to think 
Transferred °f this as unlimited, as we can conceive of no 
to time, etc. period in the past which was not preceded by 
duration, nor can we anticipate any future when duration 
will cease. From these the transference is easy to power, 
wisdom, knowledge, etc. Says Dr. Hopkins : " The term 
infinite cannot be applied to either the intellectual or 
moral attributes of God in the same sense as to space and 
time. In strictness it can be applied to nothing that 
admits of degrees or limitation, in any respect. But ' the 
Infinite ' must cover all cases in which the term infinite 
can be applied. Hence it must be found by comparison, 
and we shall always be entitled to ask, the Infinite what ? 
This form of expression has its place and use, but, like 
' the Unconditioned ' and ' the Absolute,' it is so remote 
from the ordinary lines of thought, and so vague and hazy, 
that it. has special fitness for use when men would ' darken 
counsel by words without knowledge.' " l 

SUBSTANCE AND MOTION. 

These two ideas are spoken of by some writers as 
belonging in this category, but by others as not. Of 
Substance I have already spoken, and it seems to me to be 
cognized directly by the mind as a necessary idea ; but it 

1 Outline Study of Man. p. 67. 



PRODUCTS OF THIS FACULTY. 167 

is so involved in the idea of being, as not to need a sepa- 
rate treatment. Of Motion it appears to be Motionasa 
enough to say that it is a matter of perception, matter of 
It is simply a change of place, or of the relation 
of one body to other bodies in space. Force and power 
are implied in it, but they are not it. Space, of course, 
is implied ; but motion is not space, nor any modification 
of it. It is not, it is true, a quality of matter in the 
proper sense, yet the liability to be moved is undoubtedly 
what is sometimes spoken of as a property of matter, and 
in this sense, as it seems to me, is perceptible. Still it is 
an open question whether it should come in the list of 
original ideas or of those coming through sense-perception. 

Besides the ideas which originate from the energy of 
the Intellect alone (and I have not undertaken to give an 
exhaustive account of them), there are some other neces- 
which are the product of the Intellect and Sen- sary ideas, 
sibilities combined, and others, still, which are produced 
by the joint operation of Intellect, Sensibilities, and Will. 
Of the former are the ideas of good (or happiness), beauty, 
the ludicrous, etc. ; of the latter are personality, freedom, 
causation, right and obligation, merit and demerit, etc. 
Of all these, some discussion will be had in the proper 
place in their respective departments. 

So far we have been considering original ideas. There are 
also Original Truths, or First Principles, which are so closely 
related to these that many writers fail to dis- 

. . , , , , . , First truths. 

criminate between them, and thus occasion much 
confusion. These first truths are in the form of judgments 
or propositions, and are necessarily true. "I exist;" "I am 
the same man to-day that I was yesterday ; " or " I remem- 
ber that I was in New York last month, and I that remem- 



168 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ber am the same person who was in that city ; " " The 
trees that I see are more than one ; " " The beating of 
my pulse repeats itself, and it beats in time ; " " Things 
equal to the same thing are equal to each other ; " "A part 
of a thing is less than the whole ; " " The sum of all the 
parts is equal to the whole ; " " Every event has a cause," 
— these are truths which cannot be denied. That is, to 
deny them would be absurd. An absurdity is a statement 
To deny these which it is impossible for the human mind to 
an absurdity, believe, if it apprehends the meaning of the 
terms in which the proposition is stated. To deny any of 
these and similar truths, is to violate the principles on 
which the mind is constituted, and to deny the very condi- 
tions of all knowledge. 

These ideas and truths must have some marks that dis- 
tinguish them from others. They are generally given as 
Distinguish- follows : 1. They are necessary. The mind is 
thes™ideas° f compelled to know the ideas ; it cannot help 
and truths, believing the truths. 2. They are universal. 
This would follow from their being necessary. But in 
addition to this, it is a matter of observation. No man has 
been found who did not assume the truth of these prop- 
ositions in some way, and who did not show that he 
apprehended these ideas. 3. They cannot be proved by 
reasoning, for the simple reason that no truths plainer or 
more evident can be found ; and unless this is so, no rea- 
soning can proceed. 4. If a man denies the truth of one 
of these propositions, or the existence of one of these 
ideas, he must still act as though he believed it. 



DIVISION SECOND. 



THE SENSIBILITIES. 



CHAPTER I. 

GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE SENSIBILITIES, AND 
THEIR RELATION TO THE INTELLECT. 

It has already been shown that the phenomena of the 
mind or soul are embraced in three divisions : Tri-partite 
those of the Intellect, of the Sensibilities, and of JJJSSJj" 
the Will. We have just concluded the investi- phenomena, 
gation of the first of these divisions. We now come to 
the second. 

The business of the Intellect, as we have seen, is to per- 
ceive, to compare, to reason, or, in general, to runctionof 
know. It is the function of the Sensibilities to the sensibili- 
feel. The Sensibilities comprise those powers 
and susceptibilities of the soul through which all our enjoy- 
ment and all our suffering come. 

By some writers, the Sensations are reckoned among the 
Sensibilities. In strict propriety they belong here ; but as 
they are so intimately related to our perceptions, Difference 
which are purely intellectual phenomena, they satio^and 11 
have already been fully considered in that con- sensibility, 
nection. It should be remarked, however, that there is a 
marked difference between Sensations and other phenom- 
ena of the Sensibilities. The latter are a consequence of 
certain phenomena of the Intellect which are an indispens- 
able condition for them. The former, on the other hand, 
precede the action of the Intellect, and are a condition for 



172 PSYCHOLOGY. 

its most important, if not its entire, phenomena. They 
are signs of external things which the Intellect interprets, 
and this interpretation comprises the main function of 
perception. Still they are not knowledge, but simply 
states of the mind, and therefore to be reckoned among 
the Sensibilities. 

The Sensibilities, of which we now treat, — leaving out 
the Sensations, — though entirely distinct from the Intel- 
Relation of lect in character and functions, are still inti- 
totheintel- matel y associated with it. We cannot conceive 
lect. of any phenomenon of the former which is not 

preceded by some operation of the latter, and of which the 
latter is not. a condition. It is also probable that there is 
no action of the Intellect which is not followed by some 
movement of the Sensibilities. It may not be very marked, 
nor, perhaps, one of which the subject is clearly conscious ; 
still it is scarcely doubtful that such an effect follows every 
intellectual process. 

The radical element in every production of the combined 
Intellect and Sensibility. is some form of happiness, or of 
something inseparably related to happiness — as 
of good, rad- Dr. Hopkins would say, some form of good. It 
product of y ^ s true * na * wnen tne Sensibilities are affected in 
intellect and a certain way, there is suffering ; and this would 
seem to be an evil and not a good. Still the 
feeling has reference always to some good, either positive 
Evil and or privative, as present or absent. Says Dr. 
good. Hopkins : " A sensibility is capable of working 

both ways, perhaps necessarily. As a fact, I think that 
beings with a sensibility are capable of suffering just in 
proportion as they are capable of enjoyment. But their 
suffering is not necessary ; it is not that which a sensibil- 



CHARACTER OF THE SENSIBILITIES. 173 

ity was constituted to give, and therefore we say that the 
product of a sensibility is a good." 1 

Dr. Hopkins further calls attention to the different 
meanings attached to the word " good." All enjoyment is 
good, and that enjoyment always comes from Different si _ 
the Sensibility. In this sense everything that nifications 
can properly be called a good, is a product of 
the Sensibility. Again, there are objects which minister to 
our happiness and afford us pleasure. We call these good, 
using the word as an adjective. We have also Gr 00 d an( i 
the word goodness, which always, I think, when goodness, 
properly used, refers to moral character. This distinction 
is made between a good, and goodness, and should always 
be kept in mind. The former is a normal state of the 
Sensibilities ; the latter, a normal state of the Will. 

The Sensibilities, then, of which the product _.■.-.. „ 
is some form of good, may be divided as fol- thesensi- 
lows : 1. The Emotions; 2. The Appetites; 3. 
The Desires ; 4. The Affections. 

1 Outline Study of Man, p. 196. 



174 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE EMOTIONS. 



The term Emotion is used by some writers to cover the 
whole range of the Sensibilities : the Appetites, the Desires, 
Emotion in anc ^ ^e Affections. It is to be acknowledged that 
the broader all these are accompanied by emotion, — possibly 
that emotion is a radical element in them all. 
But it is held, at least by many writers, that there is some- 
in the nar- thing in simple Emotion which distinguishes it 
rower. from all the others, and certainly something in 

the others which does not belong to this. Emotion, in its 
proper sense, is a mere feeling, and, as such, is distin- 
guished from the other products of the Sensibilities by the 
absence of any craving for any object or any condition. 
The Appetites are clearly characterized by such a craving. 
So are the Desires. The Affections, if not so obviously pos- 
sessing this quality, will, nevertheless, be found on exami- 
nation to be accompanied by it, if, indeed, it be not a 
necessary element. 

Emotions, then, are simple feelings arising in the mind 
in consequence of some knowledge of certain facts, 
or some general consciousness of condition. 

Such is the emotion of Beauty. There has been, in time 
past, much discussion concerning the meaning of beauty, 

Difference as ail( ^ aS to * na * in w ^ cn ^ Consists. As a simple 

to the mean- idea or product it cannot be defined ; but we can 
ingo eau y. ^ e snc \ 1 an accoun t of the conditions under 



THE EMOTIONS. 175 

which it arises, its causes and concomitants, as to leave no 
doubt concerning it. 

It is used in a double sense, and we need discrimination 
on this account. When we see certain objects, a feeling 
of pleasure is produced in our minds. There its double 
is no- accounting for it, except by saying that sense - 
we are so constituted. This is the emotion of the 
Beautiful, and I know of no power of language that will 
more clearly indicate what is meant by it. 

But we also look on the objects the cognition of which 
has occasioned this feeling, and we say they are beautiful. 
Here there seems to be some external quality instead of a 
simple feeling, as in the former statement. The real truth 
is, the one is beauty subjective, and the other beauty objec- 
tive. In the one case it is the feeling of pleasure produced 
by some quality in the object, upon which the attention is 
fixed. In the other it is the quality in the object, which 
produces the pleasurable feeling in the mind. This is the 
difference between subjective beauty and objective beauty. 

Beauty is to a great extent ascribed to physical objects, 

and those mainly apprehended by sight. But it is by no 

means confined to these. The effect of certain w . „ . 

Not confined 

sounds, and especially of melodies and harmo- to material 
nies, is precisely the same as that of certain ° jec " 
objects appealing to the eye. It is the same also with cer- 
tain figures of speech, with poetical conceptions, with elo- 
quent utterances, with mathematical demonstrations, and 
illustrative scientific experiments. So, too, of certain phases 
of moral conduct, or of dispositions manifested by one 
individual towards others. We are not to con- „ . . . 

Not to be con- 
found this feeling with that excited by the mere founded with 

utility of an object or set of objects, or series of 



176 PSYCHOLOGY. 

actions, as it is very easy to do. The latter are essentially 
different from the former. 

The reverse of Beauty is Deformity. There are certain 
phenomena which produce unpleasant and sometimes pain- 
ful emotions, and the philosophy of these corre- 
sponds to that of the Beautiful, only that- the 
effects of the former are directly opposite to those of 
the latter, and therefore give an opposite name both to the 
emotion and to that which is the cause of it. 

There has been much dispute concerning a standard of 
beauty, the question being whether there is any such thing. 
. . It is doubtless true that objects which appear 

standard of beautiful to some persons do not appear so to 
others. Hence it has come to be supposed by 
some that beauty depends entirely upon education, custom, 
individual constitution, and association. Unquestionably 
these all have much to do in determining the effect of cer- 
tain phenomena on certain persons. But it does not prove 
that there is no such thing as beauty, or any emotion of 
the beautiful. Differently constructed musical instruments 
may give forth the same harmonies. The same instrument 
may also respond very differently as played by different 
persons. So the same effect may be produced in the mind 
of one person, that is produced in another by a totally dif- 
ferent and quite incongruous phenomenon. There is no 
Differences doubt that the greatest differences in this respect 
resulting result from differences of culture. We know 
ences of how the child is delighted with what is not at all 
culture. attractive to an older person, and how savages 

and persons of little education enjoy pictures and represen- 
tations which are beheld with indifference, or even positive 
aversion, by more civilized and enlightened and better edu- 



THE EMOTIONS. 177 

cated people. The former usually are fond of gaudy colors 
and very pronounced expression and broad presentations, 
while the latter prefer that which is more subdued, which 
suggests more than it expresses, and which, by its delicacy, 
becomes a source of pleasure, though the appeal is always 
to one and the same susceptibility in each. 

GRANDEUR AND SUBLIMITY. 

These emotions are very closely akin to that of Beauty. 
As to the exact distinction between the first two, it has 
never been satisfactorily given. They are used Akin t0 
interchangeably to such an extent by a large beauty, 
number of writers, that it is doubtful if there is any 
thorough discrimination. It seems to me that almost 
universally Sublimity is regarded as a loftier emotion than 
Grandeur. Is it not also true that there is always some- 
thing of beauty involved in Sublimity, but not necessarily 
in Grandeur ? Further than this the difference is not well 
defined. 

In either case, the feeling is more powerful than that 
involved in beauty. There is also in it, as is sometimes 
claimed, a tincture of pain, though, of course, a more pow- 
the pleasure of the effect is greatly predomi- Santhafof 11 
nant. In the case of Sublimity, something like beauty. 
awe affects the mind, and this is akin to fear, — a sort of 
repression, and, perhaps, slight repulsion. Hamilton gives 
three forms of Sublimity as affecting the mind : Three forms 
1. That which is the effect of unusual extension of sublimity. 
in space, — vastness. 2. That which comes from long 
duration, — eternity. 3. That which is implied in evi- 
dences of power. 

But the sublime, like the beautiful, is not confined to 



178 PSYCHOLOGY. 

material objects. There are instances of moral conduct, 
Moral sub- °f fortitude, of self-sacrifice and heroism, which 
limity. produce the same effect on us as the vastness, 

duration, and power evinced in physical scenes. There 
have been instances of lofty courage, of voluntary endur- 
ance, of patriotic and of moral and religious devotion, in 
all the ages, that inspire and elevate the soul which 
knows of them, as no vision or sound in the natural world 
can possibly do. 

THE LUDICROUS. 

This is an emotion which it is not only impossible to 
define, but difficult to describe. It is readily understood 
Hard to de- by every person who has been affected by it. It 
to n appre- eaSy ^ s a P ecuuar kind of pleasure which arises on its 
hend. proper occasions. As to what these occasions 

are, those who have written on the subject, though agree- 
ing in some general features, differ in particular 
Its occasions. , ., T . , 

details. It is generally admitted that there 

must be some perception of incongruity or inconsistency, 
in order to cause this feeling. It must also be unexpected 
and uncommon, — there must be the discovery of some 
new possible relations. This latter, evidently, would not 
of itself be sufficient, as there are sudden revelations and 
unlooked-for occurrences that excite far other feelings 
than those under consideration. Sometimes indignation 
is aroused, and sometimes grief. Frequently in scientific 
investigations novel combinations and startling discover- 
ies are made, but they excite no mirth, however intense 
the gratification may be. Even the incongruous is not 
always ludicrous, especially when the occurrence is of 
a nature to endanger life or otherwise harm any one. 



THE EMOTIONS. 179 

Still probably these two elements are nearly always pres- 
ent, and are tire main features of what we call a ludicrous 
scene or event. 

This incongruity presents itself in many diverse forms. 
It may be in objects or in ideas, and in either case it may be 
accidental or intentional. A little boy dressed l 
in man's clothes, especially if they be of an in diverse 
antique fashion, is usually very ludicrous. A orms " 
person who has been putting on grand airs and assuming 
great importance and a rather superfluous dignity, and who, 
in the very act of displaying these qualities, becomes the 
victim of some trick or accident in which his dignity sud- 
denly collapses and his importance vanishes, is likely to 
occasion much merriment. Sometimes this is found in 
natural objects, as in grotesque formations ; or may be rep- 
resented in art, as in the case of the little marble cherubs 
trying to drink at a fountain, where one gets behind an- 
other and mischievously pitches him into the water. 

The grouping of ideas in such forms as to excite mirth 
is usually called Wit. The definition of this term by the 
older of our modern philosophers covered a 
much wider field than that implied in the word 
at present. The reason of this is that the word itself was 
formerly nearly synonymous with knowledge or wisdom, 
as its etymology implies. We have it still retained in 
some technical forms, as " to wit " in legal doc- Ahi h 
uments, where it is equivalent to " know " or to form of the 
" make known." It may be also said that when 
the ludicrous utterances of a person are below a certain 
grade, the title of wit is seldom conceded to them. They 
may be laughable or comical, or they may degenerate so 
much as to be called silly, but they are not witty. 



180 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Wit has nowhere been so well described as in the fol- 
lowing passage from a sermon by Dr. Barrow, which I 
quote not less for its wonderful aptness of language and 
marvellous descriptive power, than as a remarkably accu- 
rate representation of the subject : 

" It is indeed a thing so versatile and multiform, appear- 
ing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, 
Dr. Barrow's s0 variously apprehended by several eyes and 
description, judgments, that it seemeth no less hard to settle 
a clear and certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait 
of Proteus, or to define the figure of the fleeting air. 
Sometimes it lieth in a pat allusion to a known story, or 
in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in forging 
an apposite tale ; sometimes it playeth in words and 
phrases, taking advantage from the antiquity of their 
source or the affinity of their sound; sometimes it is 
wrapped in a dress of humorous expression ; sometimes it 
lurketh under an odd similitude ; sometimes it is lodged 
in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, 
in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly diverting or cleverly 
retorting an objection ; sometimes it is couched in a bold 
scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a startling metaphor, 
in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute 
nonsense ; sometimes a scenical representation of persons 
or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture, 
passeth for it ; sometimes an affected simplicity, some- 
times a presumptuous bluntness, giveth it being; some- 
times it riseth from a lucky hitting upon what is strange ; 
sometimes from a crafty wresting of obvious matter to the 
purpose ; often it consisteth in one knows not what, and 
springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unac- 
countable and inexplicable, being answerable to the num- 



THE EMOTIONS. 181 

berless rovings of fancy and windings of language. . . . 
It raiseth admiration, as signifying a nimble sagacity of 
apprehension, a special felicity of invention, a vivacity 
of spirit and reach of wit more than vulgar ; it seemeth 
to argue a rare quickness of parts, that one can fetch in 
remote conceits applicable ; a notable skill, that he can 
dexterously accommodate them to the purpose before him ; 
together with a likely briskness of humor, not apt to 
damp those sportful flashes of imagination. ... It also 
procureth delight, by gratifying curiosity with its rareness 
or semblance of difficulty (as monsters, not for their 
beauty, but their rarity; as juggling tricks, not for their 
use, but their abstruseness, are beheld with pleasure ;) by 
diverting the mind from its road of serious thoughts ; 
by instilling gayety and airiness of spirit ; by provoking 
to such dispositions of spirit in way of emulation or com- 
plaisance ; and by seasoning matters otherwise distasteful 
or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful tang." 1 

Burnett says, " Wit in writing consists in an assimilation 
of remote ideas oddly or humorously connected." Dr. Up- 
ham defines it as follows : " Wit consists in sud- Burnett's 
denly presenting to the mind an assemblage of statement- 
related ideas of such a kind as to occasion feelings of the 

ludicrous." Probably the essential thing- is in 

i • • -j *. ^ ■ i x u P flam - 

bringing ideas together in such a way as to sug- 
gest, in a more or less vivid manner, the appearance of 
similarities which are known not to exist. Sometimes this 
is in the form of burlesque, as when objects of great dignity 
and importance are described in language usually applied 
to minor and insignificant phenomena, as when Hudibras 
describes the sun-rising in the following terms : — 
1 Barrow's Complete Works, vol. i. pp. 150, 151. 



182 PSYCHOLOGY. 

"... Like a lobster boiled, the morn 
From black to red began to turn." 

Sometimes it is in taking insignificant objects or events, 
and describing them in grandiloquent language, as though 
possessing surpassing importance. No better 
instance of this exists, so far as I know, than 
Irving in "Diedrich Knickerbocker's History of New 
York," where he portrays the battle between the Dutch 
factions with all the pomp and circumstance of Homer's 
description of military operations before Troy. 

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WIT AND HUMOR. 

Wit consists more in the thought and in the language. 
Humor is rather in the manner and form of expression. 
Sometimes these go together, at other times they exist 
widely apart. Occasionally humor enhances the wit, or 
possibly reveals it ; for it is possible that a really witty 
thought may be so expressed that no one, or very few, will 
A thought perceive it. Also a thought that has no wit may, 
without wit by the very quaintness of its expression, become 
ludicrous by very ludicrous. This is done often by the tones 
expression. f ^ e voice, by particular emphasis, by facial 
expression, or by some gesture, or a glance of the eye. For 
Humor found the most part humor is found in spoken thought, 
more in though it is by no means wanting in written dis- 

thought. course. In the latter it consists wholly, as has 
been intimated, in peculiarity of expression. 

It has been asserted by some writers that the ludicrous 
always implies, in a greater or less degree, in the subjects 
The ludicrous of the emotion, something akin to contempt for 
es s e arii 0t im-" tlie 0D J ects exciting it. It is claimed that, at 
ply contempt, least, there is in the mind of the former a sense 



THE EMOTIONS. 183 

of superiority, a looking down upon the object of it. I 
think this is an error, as almost any intelligent person 
would perceive who scans carefully his own state of mind 
on such occasions. It is pure mirth and jollity, and is 
consistent with the most radical good-will and kindliness. 
There are, no doubt, instances of the ludicrous where the 
object becomes contemptible at the same time that he 
becomes ludicrous, but there is no necessary connection 
between either the two emotions or the causes of them. 

UTILITY OF THE LUDICROUS. 

Many persons have the impression that this feeling of 
the ludicrous is either harmful, or, at least, altogether use- 
less. But we cannot reasonably presume that „ . , 
a characteristic so positive and so universally baneful nor 
bestowed is either necessarily harmful or utterly 
objectless. Like all our other characteristics, it is liable to 
be abused, and thus become of no good, but a Liable to 
positive evil. There are many reasons for think- abuse - 
ing it has to do with the economics of life, and, when kept 
within its designed limits, it has actual value. 

It certainly furnishes relief and refreshment to many 
minds which otherwise might be hopelessly depressed. It 
gives buoyancy and cheerfulness, of which there 
is none too much in the majority of our fellow- 
mortals. It enlivens and invigorates the spirit often when 
nothing else will do so. " A merry heart doeth good like 
a medicine." " He that is of a merry heart hath a contin- 
ual feast." Genuine wit and humor, acting within their 
appropriate spheres, are not only ornaments of character, 
but positive excellences. Even in their painful aspects 
— for they have these— they have their uses. No one de- 



184 PSYCHOLOGY. 

sires to be the object of ridicule, and this aversion to being 
laughed at is a powerful motive, where perhaps no other 
would be effectual in keeping a person from doing foolish 
and ridiculous things. 

On the other hand, a sense of the ludicrous may be strong 
enough, in minds not balanced by suitable moral restraints 
s and a charitable disposition, to be very mischiev- 

dangerous pus. Sarcasm may be sometimes useful. Occa- 
sionally, when a person insists on making him- 
self ridiculous, it is highly important that he should be 
made to realize his situation. But there is perhaps no 
power that a man has, which needs to be used with 
more scrupulous care and greater moderation. Again, there 
is in some persons a disposition to see all things, even 
the most serious, in a ludicrous light. Even sacred things 
are not spared, and sometimes, beyond the intention and 
consciousness of the subject, it leads to something like 
sacrilege, if not blasphemy. When carried to this extreme 
it is not only harmful to society, but the possessor of it 
suffers serious detriment in the higher and nobler elements 
of his character. 



THE EMOTIONS. 185 



CHAPTER III. 

THE EMOTIONS— Continued. 

It will have been observed that in all the emotions so 
far considered, the idea of good or happiness has been a 
constant element. It will be so in not only the emotions 
yet to be considered, but in all the other divisions of the 
sensibilities. In so far as this is an idea, and Good to be 
not a mere feeling, Dr. Hopkins places it among amon? See- 
the original and necessary ideas which arise from essary ideas. 
the very constitution of the mind itself. He also places 
the ideas of beauty and the ludicrous in the ., ., f 
same category. He reckons them all as " regu- beauty and 
lative ideas," differing only from those of the 
reason, or regulative faculty, in that the latter are prod- 
ucts of the Intellect, while these are the products of the 
Intellect combined with the Sensibility. For this power 
there is no name in which philosophers agree, and Dr. Hop- 
kins only suggests that of the Affective Reason, The affective 
" meaning by that a reason whose product has reason - 
the power of affecting us as a motive, which the ideas of 
the pure reason have not." 

This and some other characteristics separate other emo- 
these emotions from those hereafter to be con- w^f!^ 
sidered. Of the latter we may first proceed to preceding, 
discuss what may be called : 



186 PSYCHOLOGY. 



THE SELF-REGARDING EMOTIONS. 

Cheerfulness is one of these of which no one is ignorant. 
It is a pleasure not only to the subject of it, but to all 
Cheerfulness with whom he associates. It is partly a matter 
fero?im- at ' of temperament or of constitution. The health 
perament. and general fortunes of life have sometimes 
much to do with it. Joy, delight, and gladness are expres- 
sions of this feeling, though they usually refer to the 
higher and more pronounced forms of it. 

The antithesis of this is Dejection. Most of us know 
persons who are chronically unhappy. They carry about 
with them a sad countenance, and are habitu- 
ally melancholy. They see nothing promising 
in any event or experience of life. If there is nothing of 
possible evil in the occurrences of the passing day or hour, 
they insist on interpreting something sinister into them. 
If the day is cloudy and dismal, they get almost the only 
gratification of their lives by reflecting that it is just 
what you might expect. If the day is fair and bright, 
they are sure it is a " weather-breeder." Their condition 
comes from a variety of causes — long-continued ill-health, 
misfortunes, constitutional proclivities, and hereditary 
tendencies. 

Sorrow is a common emotion. This is not to be con- 
founded with habitual dejection and depression. The most 
s . cheerful and light-hearted must experience the 

the same as sorrows of life, and to these the emotion is often 
deeper than to others. Its occasions are the loss 
of friends, the evil conduct of those we love, possibly our 
own wrong-doing, and various others. 

There is a group of emotions which we are next to con- 



THE EMOTIONS. 187 

sider, which are closely affiliated, and of which Self-respect 
is the central element. Genuine Self-respect is self-respect 
a normal and legitimate feeling. It is the regard described, 
one has for one's*own personality as having in it something 
of value and importance. It differs from self-love in that 
the latter is a desire for one's own happiness. Diffe rs f rom 
Self-respect in its legitimate action guards one's self-love. 
own character from degradation, and defends it against all 
imputations of meanness and baseness of every sort. A 
man who really respects himself, will not allow himself to 
do or be what he condemns and despises in others. It 
gives a dignity and force of character to a man, and few 
men will respect a person who does not respect himself. 

Self-esteem is closely allied to this, and differs from it 
only in that it is the value and importance at which a man 
reckons his own personality. It may be reason- 
able, sensible, and just, and then forms a basis 
for the respect which he may properly have for himself. It 
may also be unreasonable and extravagant, thinking of one's 
self " more highly than he ought to think." Theie are in- 
stances, though it is to be presumed somewhat rare, in which 
men under-estimate themselves to their own detriment. 

Self-complacency is a feeling that arises when seif-compia- 
we are pleased with our_ past conduct, or any cencv - 
particular achievement of our own. 

Self-satisfaction is felt when a person contem- S eif-satisfac- 
plates his own excellences, and finds them up tion - 
to the high standard, or otherwise, which he has set for 
himself. 

Self-sufficiency is the state of mind experi- seif-suffi- 
enced in view of a person's confidence in his ciency. 
own abilities. 



188 PSYCHOLOGY. 

All these emotions, as intimated, have their normal 
spheres, within which they are legitimate and healthful. 
They have also an action which becomes vicious, and 
hence arise feelings that take on appropriate names. 

Pride is one of these. It is an extravagant and abnor- 
mal self-respect, accompanied by equally abnormal self- 
Pride de- esteem, while the other emotions mentioned are 
fined. likely to be similarly affected and disordered. 

Pride is thus always to be distinguished from legitimate 
self-respect. In its strict sense it is a vicious and abnor- 
Di tin- ma * em °ti° n arising into a passion. It is also 

guished from to be distinguished from vanity, with which it is 
often confounded. Vanity is an inordinate de- 
sire for the good opinion of others, as we shall see when 
we come to it under the head of desires. Pride is an inor- 
dinate estimate and regard for ourselves, without respect 
to what others think of us. 

Egotism is pride accompanied by vanity, and manifests 
itself mainly by obtruding the person of its subject pub- 
Egotism as licly, and rehearsing its own excellences, or 
prid^and fancied excellences and exploits. It thus be- 
vanity. comes a very offensive and disagreeable trait to 

all except its possessor. 

Those abnormal developments of the emotions just 
Opposite mentioned have their opposites, such as humil- 
emotions. jty, self-displacency, self-dissatisfaction, diffi- 
dence, etc., all of which imply their character in their 
names. 

Displeasure is a feeling caused by the observance of con- 
duct which we believe to be not only wrong, but injurious 
to ourselves as well as others. It is not merely the opposite 
of pleasure, as that would properly be pain, but it is a 



THE EMOTIONS. 189 

somewhat positive feeling having reference usually to 
conduct. We are not, on the one hand, to con- Character 
found it with the malevolent affection of anger ; and causes of 
nor on the other to regard it as a moral lsp easure * 
sentiment. 

Disgust is a still stronger term, denoting the feeling with 
which we look upon, perhaps, the same kind of actions 
when aggravated by circumstances which make DiS g USt and 
them particularly disagreeable and offensive, indignation. 
Indignation is frequently used as synonymous with anger, 
but incorrectly, as it regards deeds rather than persons. 



SURPRISE, ASTONISHMENT, WONDER. 

When anything novel and unanticipated, especially if 
it be contrary to our expectations, presents itself to our 
minds, a feeling arises, different from any of Difference 
those previously mentioned. This is Surprise, ^^[da^I 
Astonishment indicates a higher degree of the tonishment. 
same kind of feeling, with, perhaps, a tendency to repress 
the ordinary action of the mind. When the object is 
dwelt upon for any considerable length of time, and ex- 
cites a certain degree of inquiry, with perhaps some sense 

of mysterv, the feeling: excited is called Wonder. 

m, J ' ,. S , . -4.1. Wonder. 

lnese emotions are of use to us, since they 

often cause us to pause and consider. We are thus also 
led to investigate and ascertain facto and principles before 
unknown. We frequently, as a consequence, take meas- 
ures for our defence and security, as well as to make 
improvement in many ways. Wonder has sometimes been 
called " the seed of knowledge." 

The feeling of Reverence arises when we have knowl- 



190 PSYCHOLOGY. 

edge of persons of great dignity and moral worth, or 
The kind of authority, or of extraordinary learning or gen- 
persons for j us wno nave usec [ these powers for the ad- 

whom rever- . L 

ence is felt, vancement of virtue and religion in the world. 
Every generation and every nation have a few such ; and 
the masses of men, as they contemplate the characters of 
these persons, are affected by this emotion. No man, 
unless wanting in certain essentials of desirable character, 
would fail to be affected in this way, by the mention of 
such names as those of Abraham, Moses, St. Paul, St. 
Augustine, Howard, Wilberforce, Washington, and a host 
of others who have died, as well as of many who are now 
living. A moderate degree of this feeling is called respect 
and regard. A high degree, such as is felt for the very 
noblest and most godlike of the race, is veneration ; and 
that feeling with which we regard the Infinite and All- 
wise Creator, is denominated adoration. 



HOPE AND FEAR. 

It is some matter of doubt whether this is the precise 
place in winch to consider these two emotions. Indeed, it 



Doubt con- 



is disputed by some that they are, in strictness, 
cerning these simple emotions at all, there being in each an 

intellectual element. But there is, at least, an 
emotional element also. They may, perhaps, better be 
classed here than anywhere else. 

Hope comprises both an expectation of a thing, and a de- 
sire for it. The resultant is a feeling of pleasure. There 
Meaning of are > °^ course > different degrees of hope ; some- 
h °P e - times it is of the feeblest character, and again 

of the strongest and boldest, approximating perfect conn- 



THE EMOTIONS. 191 

dence. It is one of the most effective motives of action, 
and a person's character and success in life are 
determined very largely by the place this occu- 
pies. It encourages effort and inspires great deeds ; it 
also supports the soul under the severest trials and hard- 
ships. It anticipates pleasures and prosperities in the 
future, when there are none in the present. Its anticipa- 
tions sometimes take the place of joys that never come. 

" Hope springs eternal in the human breast; 
Man never is, but always to be, blest." 

Fear has two significations. One of these makes it the 
opposite of Hope. It is thus made up of expectation and 
negative desire, or aversion. We fear that gignifica- 
which we expect, but desire not to be. This, tions of fear - 
like hope, has different degrees. It may be a mild dis- 
quietude, or it may be utter despair, and thus in peculiar 
instances exceedingly distressing. 

Fear in its other signification is the feeling we have in 
view of something certain or possible to come into our 
experience. It is the state of mind which is 
meant when we speak of being afraid. Chil- 
dren are afraid of the dark or of strangers. Older persons 
are afraid of certain other persons because of their charac- 
ter, or of certain possibilities of conduct in them as affect- 
ing those brought in contact with them. In „ , 
this sense it is not the exact opposite of hope, opposite of 
though there is usually something of expecta- ° pe ' 
tion in it. In its more serious forms it becomes dread, and 
deepens into alarm, and terror. The last term expresses a 
condition in which one partially or wholly loses self-con- 
trol by the intensity of the fear. It is distinguished from 



192 PSYCHOLOGY. 

despair by the condition of violent agitation and excite- 
ment which characterizes it, while the characteristic of the 
latter is lifelessness, and resignation to fate. Still we 
sometimes speak of one's being "paralyzed by terror." 
This doubtless indicates the physical rather than 
the mental effect. Horror represents a cognate 
feeling to fear and terror, but perhaps differs mainly in 
this, that we may fear and be in terror of that which is not 
in itself hideous or repulsive. In horror there is always 
a pronounced element of detestation, a shrinking from the 
object or act as something unendurable and abominable in 
Itself. 



THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 193 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 



This is not the place to enter extensively upon the sub- 
ject of Ethics, but a* few words may be necessary in order 
to put our immediate topic in its proper light. Relation to 
It is to be taken for granted that the words ethics - 
right and wrong have a definite and well-understood mean- 
ing, and that they refer to certain classes of actions. By 
the use of our intellectual powers we ascertain whether an 
action is right or wrong, just as we determine what actions 
are wise and what are unwise, what are healthful or un- 
healthful, graceful or awkward. In making this estimate 
of moral conduct, there must be taken into account cir- 
cumstances, conditions, motives, intentions, etc., as there 
are comparatively few acts the moral character of which 
is the same in all cases. The moral emotions . . 
arise on the contemplation of actions thus deter- moral emo- 
mined as right or wrong. In observing a right 
action there is a distinct feeling of approval ; in an opposite 
instance there is an equally distinct feeling of disapproval. 

There are three cases to be considered: 

. XTT1 , . , . Three cases. 

1. When a person determines that a certain 

action is right for him to do, and wrong not to do. In this 

case there is a feeling of obligation, an impulse 

to do it, inclining him towards the right and 

away from the wrong. It will be noticed that this feeling 

is consequent upon the determination or judgment concern- 



194 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ing the character of the act, and is no part of that judg- 
ment. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of that 
judgment. This, it seems to me, is the peculiar and essen- 
tial function of Conscience. Indeed, it may be 
doubted if there is any other function which 
can be shown to be so closely connected with this as to be 
properly regarded a modification of it. There is certainly 
no need that Conscience do the judging and reasoning 
which are here implied, since the same faculties which 
usually do the judging and reasoning about other matters 
are fully competent for the same office here. In this view 
.... of Conscience as a simple impulsive faculty or 

A simple lm- r x J 

puisive force, we have a power that acts uniformly and 

universally, and which is also, in its proper 
sphere, infallible. That is, it always impels us to do what 
we judge to be right, and not to do what ive judge to be 
wrong. It does this if it does anything. It may be so 
misused or abused as to become inactive, or we may so 
habitually disregard its monitions that at last we cease to 
feel them ; but whenever its voice is heard at all, it always 
urges to do what one's judgment and reason approve as 
right, and it does this in all men. 

2. When we have done a wrong act, the consequent 
emotion is one of disapproval, and when we have acted 
Feeling of rightly, it is one of approval. The former con- 
ofTwronff 1 se( l uence is more conspicuous than the latter, 
act. inasmuch as it is more natural to do right than 

to do wrong ; and therefore we do not notice the effect, it 
is so much a matter of course, unless it be in a case where 
great temptation to act wrongly has been resisted. The 
connection of this phase of moral feeling with the previous 
one is obvious. In both the sense of obligation, of ought 



THE MORAL EMOTIONS. 195 

or ought not, is present; in the former, as something to 
be complied with, an imperative which we are not at liberty 
to disregard; in the latter, as something which has been 
violated, and which consequently brings pain and condem- 
nation, — a sense of guilt and ill-desert. 

3. There is, in the third place, the feeling we have when 
we observe the right or wrong actions of others, — of ap- 
proval if they do right, and disapproval if they 
do wrong. There is in the latter no sense of self- ^ilapprovaf 
condemnation, but the feeling probably arises Otters. ° f 
from the reflection that if we were in the place 
of the persons observed we should have this feeling, and 
therefore we condemn their conduct as we would have con- 
demned our own. It is, as in the first case, a disapproval 
or approval, as the case may be, of conduct in others which 
has been first realized in our own experience. 

There are several terms representing the feelings implied 
in Conscience, or more or less closely affiliated with it. 
They are Repentance, Penitence, Contrition, Compunction, 
and Remorse. 

Repentance is a general term indicating regret and sorrow 
for certain actions and courses of conduct, and a disposition 
or purpose to do the opposite in the future. R 
Penitence is more usually expressive of this feel- and peni- 
ing in relation to religious conduct. Contrition 
is nearly synonymous with penitence, but has in it more 
conspicuously the element of humiliation, and Contrition 
also of affection towards the being offended compunction, 
as enhancing the sorrow. Compunction, as the 
name implies, is a pricking and goading of conscience, — 
the uneasy and painful feeling resulting from the violation 
of obligation. Remorse is the same feeling in a more set- 



196 PSYCHOLOGY. 

tied and oppressive form, a positive sense of guilt tending 
towards hopelessness. It will be noticed that Compunction 
and Remorse differ from the others in this, that they have 
no element of purpose of change in them. They are pure 
emotions consequent upon evil conduct. The others are 
not pure emotions, but are combined in some measure with 
the action of the Will. 

Faith is also largely emotional, though having in it some- 
thing of the element of both the intellectual and the voli- 
tional. It is based upon belief, and implies a 

Faith. . . , . n .-11 f -i • 

purpose ; but it also is characterized by a reeling 
of confidence and trust in another, or in something extra- 
neous to self. 



THE APPETITES. 197 



CHAPTER V. 

THE APPETITES. 

Passing from the consideration of the Emotions, we 
come upon a new range of sensibilities known as the 
Appetites and Desires. I mention them together, How 
as they have something in common which dis- tites and de- 
tinguishes them from the simple emotions, fromemo- 
The latter are the effects of some intellectual tlons ' 
operations, and do not themselves, at least directly, incite 
to action. But in this new field the feelings that we 
cognize do impel to action. They are what Sir William 
Hamilton calls conative, inducing effort on the part of their 
subject. Indeed, he puts them in the department of the 
Will, and treats them accordingly. But most writers 
class them in the category of the Sensibilities. 

The Appetites and the Desires have this in common, 
that they are both cravings for something that the subject 
of them lacks. For this reason some writers Whatthey 
have included both under the one head of De- have in com- 
sires ; while some others, mostly ancient phil- 
osophers, have reckoned them all as Appetites. But at 
present they are divided on what seems to be a clearly 
intelligible and reasonable principle, namely, that the one 
class refers to the wants of the body, and the other to 
those of the soul. 

The Appetites, then, are those cravings of the mind which 



198 PSYCHOLOGY. 

relate to the well-being of the body. They have been de- 
Appetites scribed by some writers as physical feelings, 
defined. 'but, as it seems to me, unreasonably. There 

are properly no physical feelings, since all feeling of any 
sort is in the mind, not in the body. Cut off all connec- 
tion of any part of the body with the brain and the miod, 
Have their and there is no feeling at all in that part of the 
stTt^o 1 ? tt 6 bod y- StiU these feelin g s na ve their causes in 
body. the conditions of the body, and this is one of 

their chief characteristics. Another mark of the Appetites 
Their perio- * s their periodicity. They act at intervals, and 
dicity. w ith a certain degree of regularity. They are 

also accompanied by an uneasy sensation. They differ 
from instincts in this, that they are to a certain extent 
under the Judgment and Will. 

The Appetites as usually given are Hunger, Thirst, and 
the craving for Air and Sleep. To these are added by 
Kinds of many authorities, the Sexual appetite, and the 
appetites. desire for Exercise. " If we would know how 
many appetites there are," says Dr. Hopkins, " we must 
inquire how many things there are, generically, that are 
necessary for the well-being of the body, and we majr be 
sure there will be within the body a craving for these 
things." 

The end of the Appetites is not mere sensual gratifica- 
tion. They are designed for the preservation of the body, 
Object of the and * be perpetuation of the race. There is, of 
appetites. course, a gratification ' in meeting these de- 
mands ; were this not so, the design would be frustrated. 
Except for the pleasure there is in eating and drinking, 
thousands of persons would so frequently neglect these 
wants of their nature as to destroy their health and life. 



THE APPETITES. 199 

The Appetites are self-limiting. In a man of normal 
condition, whose Appetites have not been abused, they 
crave no more than a healthful satisfaction. 
The great danger is in the gratifying, not the 
appetite beyond this point, but another desire closely asso- 
ciated with it. For instance, in eating certain kinds of 
food, in addition to the gratification of the appetite, there 
is a pleasure to the palate and other organs of taste. A 
desire is created for the continuance of this pleasure, and 
eating is sometimes continued for this purpose after the 
appetite itself has utterly ceased its demands. This leads 
to over-eating, and thus to bodily harm, and may grow into 
a most evil habit. 

This is found to be the case especially in artificial appe- 
tites. There are many articles of food and of drink for 
which there is no natural craving. An appetite Artificial 
for them, however, can be cultivated. It is appetites. 
probable that nothing is ever gained by their cultivation, 
since, as Dr. Hopkins says, it is pretty nearly certain # that 
in the constitution of man, God gave him as many appe- 
tites as would be good for him. ' These artificial appetites, 
too, are frequently, if not always, more difficult to govern 
than those which are natural. Take, for in- 

t c i -r> i i i Narcotics. 

stance, the use of tobacco. Probably no person, 
unless inheriting abnormal conditions, ever liked tobacco 
in any form. It is, without much doubt, naturally univer- 
sally offensive. Yet, the taste once acquired and the appe- 
tite cultivated, it easily becomes a dominant passion, hard 
to shake off, even when known to be undermining the 
health and ruining the constitution of its victim. There 
are thousands who would gladly give a great sum to free 
themselves, without the necessary personal sacrifice, from 



200 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the dominion of this pernicious appetite ; but the effort is 
so great that rather than make it they continue to submit 
to its thraldom. 

What is true of this and other narcotics is true in a 
still more deplorable degree of the appetite for alcoholic 
Alcoholic beverages. It begins to be created in the pleas- 
beverages. an t stimulus of this substance acting on the 
system, and the reaction from which begets a stronger 
craving, the gratification of which causes a greater stimu- 
lus, and thus, gradually, there is an overmastering power 
established among the physical elements, which in no 
long time renders the subject a helpless victim and slave 
to its imperious demands. 

It is true that men do become the victims of appetites 
which were originally normal and healthful. We read, 
Normal and perhaps know, of gluttons and gormand- 

comi?g 8 ab- 8 " izers - Tne 7 have become so, not by the natural 
normal. use f their appetites, but by an artificial indul- 

gence of them. There are other ways in which appetites 
are created so as to have all the effect of artificial crav- 
ings, by ministering to the palate at unseasonable hours, 
when the natural appetite itself makes no sort of demand, 
and that too, for articles not in themselves unwholesome, 
and for which, in a limited degree, there is a normal 
appetite ; and thus untold harm is done to the health and 
strength of the individual. 

INSTINCTS. 

This is perhaps as good a place as any to consider the 
subject of the Instincts, since, though differing radically 
from the Appetites, they have a certain relation to them, 
and at one or two points are very similar to them. 



THE APPETITES. 201 

Instinct, according to Reid, is " a natural blind impulse 
to certain action, without having any end in view, without 
deliberation, and very often ivithout any concep- Definition of 
tion of what we do." "An instinct," says Paley, instinct - 
" is a propensity prior to experience, and independent of 
instruction." 

When Reid says, as above, that instinct is without any 
end in view, he doubtless means that the subject of the 
instinctive action has no end ; for unquestion- 
ably the action is always directed to some end, as the sub- 

and its end is always the well-being- of the J ectls con- 

J t ° cerned, but a 

individual or of the race. Instinct is repre- real end 

sented as unintelligent. This is true so far as 
the subject is concerned, but that the most far-seeing in- 
telligence is in some way involved cannot be intelligence 
doubted. The Creator of the subject has fore- ^t oftie^ 
seen, and by marvellous wisdom provided for, subject, 
the operation of instinct. If instinct were like intelligence 
it would imply far more wisdom in the bee and the spider, 
and many other animals, than in man. The sitting hen 
turns over her eggs by ruffling them, in order that the 
yolk, the specific gravity of which is greater than that of 
the white, may not rest on the shell, and thus prevent the 
growth of the chick. Here, evidently, is intelligence, but 
not the intelligence of the hen. She would not know an 
egg of her own from a glass egg, and would sit upon a 
nest full of the latter as contentedly as upon the former. 
A beaver constructs a dam which can scarcely be beaten 
by a civil engineer ; but if shut up in any place destitute 
of water, and furnished with materials, he will construct 
just as good a dam as though putting it across a stream, 
— a dam, of course, which could have no object. It is 



202 PSYCHOLOGY. 

characteristic of instinct, that it is incapable of improve- 
incapabieof ment or development. There is incalculable 
improvement, progress in man's architecture and mechanical 
talent, from the cave dwellings and rude huts of the prim- 
itive races to the neat edifices and sumptuous houses of 
modern times ; but the bee builds its cells precisely as it 
did five thousand years ago. So of the nests of birds, the 
ball of the silkworm, and many other structures. 

But we are concerned here with the instincts of men, 
and not those of the lower animals, except as the latter aid 
us in understanding the former. It is to be remarked that 
Inverse ratio the relation of instinct to intelligence is that of 
anSelh- an inverse rat i°- When the former is at its 
gence. maximum the latter is at its minimum, and vice 

versa. Dr. Hopkins and Dr. Chadbourne have both illus- 
trated this by the accompanying simple diagram ; namely, 
that of a rectangle divided diagonally into 
two triangles, one representing instinct and 
the other intelligence. At the lower part 
of the upper triangle, representing intelli- 
gence, the latter becomes virtually nothing, while instinct 
occupies the whole space. The same is true of the upper 
point of the lower triangle, representing instinct; there 
the latter is nil, while intelligence occupies the whole 
space. So at every intermediate point, the wider the 
intelligence the narrower the instinct, and vice versa. 

It is in accordance with this principle that we find the 
instincts more numerous and more active in children than 
instincts of m adults. The newly-born infant sucks and 
children. swallows its food as perfectly as if it knew all 
the principles of the operation. •" Sucking and swallowing 
are very complex operations. Anatomists describe about 




THE APPETITES. 203 

thirty pairs of muscles that must be employed in every 
draught. Of these muscles every one must be served by 
its proper nerve, and can make no exertion but by some 
influence conveyed through that nerve. The exertion of 
all these nerves is not simultaneous. They must succeed 
each other in regular order, and their order is no less neces- 
sary than the exertion itself. This regular train of opera- 
tions is carried on according to the nicest rules of art by 
the infant who has neither art, nor science, nor experience, 
nor habit." 1 

The most intelligent men, up to old age, do some things 
entirely by instinct, and other things occasion- Men do cer- 
ally under the same impulse. Certain of our JJjjSSJJ 
instinctive operations we learn by observation, instinct. 
and sometimes find out how to control and modify them. 

1 Dr. Reid, qxioted by Dr. Upham. 



204 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE DESIRES. 



The Desires have the same relation to the well-being of 
the mind that the Appetites do to that of the body. We 
Desires de- have seen that if we could know how many- 
fined, generically different things were requisite to 
the well-being of the body, we should know how many 
appetites there are. So it is with the desires and the well- 
being of the mind. It will be seen that the Desires are of 
a higher order of sensibilities than the Appetites. There 
are several kinds of Desires, each having its distinctive 
Seif-preser- designation. First among these is the desire 
vation. f or Continued Existence, or Self-Preservation. No 
principle is naturally stronger in man than this. We do 
not need to prove this. It is obvious in the conduct of all 
men, whenever they are exposed to danger. Under cer- 
tain conditions, it may be overcome by other principles 
temporarily gaining the ascendency, but it can hardly be 
said, even in these instances, to be extinguished. 

The action prompted by this desire is two-fold. It 
may be either instinctive or voluntary. The former takes 
Two-fold place when life is threatened or imperilled by 
action. sudden emergencies. When a person is in dan- 

ger of falling, he instinctively puts forth his hand to save 
himself. When a blow is suddenly aimed at him, he 
instinctively makes an effort to ward it off. Such a pro- 
vision seems to be made for man, to serve in cases where 



THE DESIRES. 205 

calculation and adaptation of means to ends could not be 
made available in time. When there is oppor- 
tunity for consideration, the action prompted by 
the desire is said to be voluntary. This action is usual in 
self-defence. 

DESIRE OF PROPERTY. 

There is a natural craving of the mind for possession. 
The assurance of continued existence is followed by a 
desire for means of supporting that existence, and making 
it comfortable and agreeable. Hence we find in all men 
the craving for possession of that which would maintain 
life in greater or less abundance. It is the mainspring of 
all industry, of all production, of nearly all invention and 
enterprise. Civilization depends largely upon it. It is 
one of the most powerful propensities of the human mind. 
While innocent and most useful within its legitimate 
limits, it may be easily carried beyond those limits by its 
own momentum, and become a great power of evil in the 
world. 

DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE, 

The third of these desires is known as the Desire for 
Knowledge, or Curiosity. This is a normal characteristic of 
our constitution. We are made to crave knowl- 
edge, and are furnished with means and instru- 
mentalities by which this may be acquired. We see the 
principle in operation everywhere. In the most ordinary 
community, let any new and strange event take place, and 
everybody is agog to know all about it. It is of the 

highest utility, and furnishes the spring- to the 

* *. ^ • l • • ivu x i Its utility, 

greatest achievements m science, literature, and 



206 PSYCHOLOGY. 

art. Under its stimulus have taken place the wonderful 
explorations, expeditions, and experiments for the purpose 
of extending the area of human knowledge. 

DESIRE OF POWER. 

This is also a normal and legitimate feature of our con- 
stitution. We see it in its purest and simplest form 
sometimes in children. There is great joy in a 
boy's mind when he has achieved something 
which he has found it difficult to compass. The mere 
knowledge of certain kinds of ability, wholly independent 
of any ulterior good, is itself a very positive satisfaction. 
May be ^ * s a ^ so a P r °per object of effort. It is one of 

abused. the great duties of man to acquire as much 

power as he can justly. Like all other great gifts, power 
is liable to be abused, and is pretty likely to be, if not kept 
in subjection to moral principles. 

" Oh, it is excellent to have a giant's strength ; 
But it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." 

When this desire becomes excessive, and is cultivated 
for selfish ends, it is called Ambition. It is simply an inor- 
dinate desire of power, not as a means to noble 
and worthy ends, but because it will promote 

one's self-interest. 

DESIRE OF ESTEEM. 

This is another natural and universal principle of 

our constitution ; that our friends, and people generally, 

think well of us, is an occasion of simple and 
Its utility. . . „ -r i • • i 

innocent gratification. It begins with us in 

infancy, and is never wholly wanting in the most advanced 



THE DESIRES. 207 

age. It is not a mere pleasure ; it has also its positive 
utility. Unless we have the approbation of our fellow- 
men, we can do them little good ; and to be deprived of 
this is a great deduction from our usefulness. Notnecessa- 
It is by no means necessarily a selfishly prompted rily selfish. 
desire. In circumstances where, so far as we can see, this 
approval will in no way affect our business, or our general 
reputation, or any of the enterprises of life to a good in 
which we devote ourselves, we still hunger for itself - 
it for its own sake. If we happen to be set down for only 
a brief space among entire strangers whom we shall never 
see again, and who can do us neither good nor harm, still 
we should be sorry to know that, without conscious cause 
on our part, we had incurred their ill-will. To care noth- 
ing for the opinion entertained of us by others, or to so 
pretend, indicates a low and unworthy moral character. 
It is not merely for the present that we are animated by 
this desire. We are not improperly solicitous that our 
memory after we are dead shall be held in respect, or, at 
least, not in dishonor. 

This, like other desires, has its appropriate limits, within 

which it is innocent and wholesome, but beyond 

Limitations. 
which it is unwholesome and harmful. When 

it becomes thus inordinate and abnormal, it is called Vanity. 
It is always a foolish and undignified senti- 
ment, even in its most common forms ; in its 
excessive action it becomes offensive and repulsive. 

DESIRE OP SOCIETY, HAPPINESS, AND LIBERTY. 

There are still other forms of the sensibilities which have 
the general characteristics of desire, and by some eminent 



208 PSYCHOLOGY. 

writers are placed in this list. Others, for certain reasons, 
clo not so reckon them. They are the Desire 
they are to be of Society, the Desire of Happiness, and the 
classed here. ]) e§ { re f Liberty. The Desire of Society appears 
to be very much of the same general nature as the other 
desires already described. We are constituted so that 
society is essential to our individual welfare. No man is 

„ ~ ever made to be sufficient to himself. The full 

No man suffi- 
cient to him- complement of things needful for his welfare is 

never in any one individual. All the members 
of a community are interdependent. Each has something 
that others, probably many others, lack and need. Hence 
this desire is as clearly natural as any other which comes 
under our consideration. The only reason I have seen why 
it should not be reckoned among the original desires is 
that given by Dr. Hopkins, namely, that " it is so far some- 
. ,. . thing that we are born into, and a condition for 
men are bom the gratification of other desires, and for the 

exercise of the affections and higher faculties," 
that we prefer to place it in a list somewhat separated 
from the more general desires. This distinction is doubt- 
less worthy of consideration, if not wholly determinative. 

The Desire of Happiness, or, as Dr. Hopkins would say, 
of Good, is what is generally known as Self-love. There 
is a clearly marked difference between this and the other 
desires. That it is a craving for something not in posses- 
sion, and is consequently a great impelling force, is very 
evident. So far it is similar to the other desires. It differs 
h it diff f rom them in this : that it can get no direct 
from other gratification, and none at all except through the 

operations of the other desires. Suppose all 
the other desires to cease, and only the desire of happiness 



THE DESIRES. 209 

to remain. This cannot be gratified until some one or 
more of the other desires revive. Some such state as 
this does occur at certain times to some persons, and it is 
a most distressing condition. It is the state denominated 
Hypochondria, a state in which, while there is Hypochon- 
a craving for good or happiness, there is no con- dria - 
ceivable way in which this good can come. The reason of 
this is, that there is in this condition an absence of any 
desire the gratification of which gives pleasure; and a 
more hopeless and melancholy situation can scarcely be 
imagined. 

" The good does not lie proximate to the will. It is the 
common result of all forms of activity, when the objects 
directly chosen are attained. Entering thus as Good does not 
a common element into all desires, it cannot be ^ate totiie 
classed in the same rank with any one of them. will. 
It has, indeed, the same relation to all specific forms of 
desire, that consciousness has to all the other mental oper- 
ations. It is something different from any one of them, 
it is common to them all, and is that without which no one 
of them could be." x 

There is a clear distinction between self-love and selfish- 
ness, to which particular attention is called, as it is not 
always made by writers and speakers of culture, self-love and 
Self-love is a simple, natural, and legitimate selfishness, 
desire, such as all men properly have. Selfishness is 
inordinate self-love — self-love passing beyond its legiti- 
mate limits, and overmastering more important desires 
and motives. 

The Desire of Liberty differs from the general desires in 
much the same way aS the desire of happiness, though not, 

1 Hopkins's Outline Study of Man. 



210 PSYCHOLOGY. 

perhaps, to the same extent. It has certainly a peculiar re- 
E j . lation to those desires. It may be rudely stated 

the particu- somewhat thus : it is a desire for the gratification 
of all other desires. We do not like to have our 
desires restricted in any way, and any repression of them, or 
prevention of their gratification, we regard as a limitation of 
our liberty. I suppose a child or an uneducated person 
A simple would define liberty as having and doing every- 
definition. thing one wishes, and having and doing nothing 
else ; and probably it cannot be much more clearly defined. 
But it will be seen by this that the desire for liberty can 
hardly exist independent of other desires. Were these not 
in existence, probably the- craving for liberty would never 
be felt. Hence, while the element of desire is the promi- 
nent feature here, it is evident that, like the desire for 
good or happiness, it is separated by other characteristics 
from the desires first spoken of. 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 211 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 

The Affections differ from the Desires in that they are 
more complex, and also of a higher character. The ele- 
ment of desire is prominent in them, but it is Howaffec . 

accompanied by another element. When we tions differ 
, pn . ■ j. . . ., . from desires. 

have an affection for certain persons, there is 

not only a craving for their society, but we have in addi- 
tion, a disposition to please them, and to do what they 
would desire to have done. This feeling becomes so 
strong where the affection is great, that it subordinates all 
other considerations. The property, the preferences, and 
even the life itself of the subject, are readily sacrificed for 
the benefit of the object of the affection. So, on the other 
hand, if an aversion is from any cause felt for a 
person, we do not desire association with this 
person, and the natural impulse is not to do him any 
favor, but rather the contrary. Unless overborne by other 
considerations, as it is in wise and charitably disposed 
individuals, the spontaneous impulse of the mind towards 
such a person is to do him some harm. 
« The Affections have been classed by a majority of au- 
thorities, as Benevolent and Malevolent, accordingly as we 
regard individuals favorably or unfavorably — ciassifica- 
as we love or hate them. This division has tions - 
been objected to by Dr. Hopkins,- on the ground that these 
two words imply the action of the Will ; whereas these 



212 PSYCHOLOGY. 

are natural sensibilities, and exist before the Will is so 
fully constituted as to control them, and, in fact, before 
the Will is called into action. He says, in animals there 
is no malevolence. The beast of prey has none of this 
feeling towards his victim. " He does not hate him ; he 
simply wishes to eat him." Dr. Hopkins would call these 
Beneficent Affections which lead to the doing of good, 
and defensive Beneficent; the opposite feelings and impulses 
he would call Defensive or Punitive, inasmuch as 
in the lower animals this seems to have been the reason 
why they are constituted with these dispositions. 

But as we are dealing with men and not with brutes, 
and as the manifestations of these feelings are quite differ- 
ent in the latter from what they are in the former, these 
seem to be awkward and unsatisfactory designations, and 
not at all clearly antithetic to the name given to the oppo- 
site affection. If Beneficent is a better term than Benevolent 
why not ma- as applied to the one, why would it not be bet- 
leficent ? ter to call the other by the name of Maleficent ? 
This would at once give a natural and easy distinction, 
and would also adequately describe them. But on the 
whole, and notwithstanding the reasonableness of the 
objection to the present nomenclature, I prefer to adhere 
to it till the higher authorities are agreed on something 
better. 

The further division is made of the Affections as Natural 
and Moral. The former are those which spring up spon- 
Naturai and taneously, and are not under the control of the 
moral. Will. They are found in brutes as well as in 

men. The latter are under control of the Will. This 
distinction will not call for a separate treatment of the two 
classes of affections. 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 213 

The Benevolent Affections assume a variety of forms, 
according to their respective objects. These may be 
grouped under the heads of Love of Kindred, Different 
Love of Country, Friendship, Love of Humanity, forms. 
Gratitude, and Sympathy. 

The word Love is, in our language, made to cover a 
large range of conceptions, to many of which it is, in strict 
propriety, altogether inapplicable. A boy loves Use of the 
his play and his instruments of amusement ; word love - 
some men love horses and dogs ; a girl loves parties, and 
beautiful dresses and adornments ; the scholar loves study ; , 
certain persons love a fight ; and others love particular 
kinds of food and drink, and exciting scenes. Now clearly 
these uses of the word love indicate only a delight and 
pleasure in the possession or observance of these objects 
or events, and they are mostly of a physical character. 
But we do not realty love these things ; we simply like 
them. Love in its proper sense must have a p ure iy P er- 
personal object. It is a purely personal feeling, sonal - 
both as to its object and its subject. This is clear from 
what has already been said of the nature of the Affections, 
namely, that they imply a desire on the part of the person 
who loves, to please and benefit the object loved. Let us 
consider the several forms of the Affections. 

THE LOVE OF KINDRED. 

This is the earliest and most primitive of the natural 
affections. Parental Love springs up at once, as soon as the 
fact of parentage is realized. I do not mean Earliestand 
that it exists in its full strength, but it is in the §»£ P£ a mi - 
soul at first, and grows and deepens, and becomes rentaI love " 
more and more controlling with the increasing age of the 



214 PSYCHOLOGY. 

object. How powerful it often is, need not here be illus- 
trated, since every person may find instances in great num- 
bers within the circle of his own observation. The love of 
a mother for her child has become the simile and standard 
of all great affection that is found in humanity ; and the 
toil and hardship, and the uncounted and unmeasured 
sacrifices to which she will subject herself, prompted by 
this love, have been rehearsed a thousand times, in story 
and in song, in all the literatures of the world. 

This is mainly instinctive, as appears from the fact that 
it is a natural affection. It is akin to the intense interest 
Mainly in- that the lower animals have for their young. It 
stinctive. ^ nevertheless, capable of taking on a moral 
character. It may be made the subject of consideration, 
and be brought under moral rules. There are also excep- 
tional instances in which the affection has been alienated, 
and indifference has taken its place. In such cases ethical 
motives and obligations may be presented as a means of 
reviving and restoring it. 

The utility of this affection is seen in the consideration 
that without some such sensibility parents might not be 
able to discharge effectually the duties implied 
in this relationship. The daily cares and anxie- 
ties, the constant solicitude, the fears and misgivings and 
sorrows of the parent, the toils and sacrifices without num- 
ber, could not be borne but for this implanted and over- 
mastering principle. 

Filial Love is the counterpart of parental love, and, while 

similar to it in some respects, differs from it in others. It 

Differs from P ossesses l ess strength and permanence. It does 

parental not manifest the same steadiness and intensity. 

There is no such sense of responsibility in the 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 215 

child as in the parent; hence the greater attention prompted 
by this, and the knowledge of the dependence of the child. 
These tend to modify the character of the parent's love, 
and make it different from that of the child. 

That this is an implanted principle, and not a cultivated 
sentiment, is evident from several considerations. It is 
more abiding than a cultivated affection in most . . , . . 
of the relations of life. From persons, not akin to and abiding 
us, to whom we are thus affected, we withdraw our 
affections, or they subside of themselves, when we find that 
the objects of them are unworthy. But that a parent has 
become vicious and unworthy, or even a reprobate in the 
community, is not ordinarily sufficient to estrange the affec- 
tions of a child. So, too, while we may feel at liberty to re- 
sent certain kinds of treatment by a mere acquaintance, or 
even a friend, however intimate, it is not so with the child 
in relation to a parent, — at least, it is not commonly so. 
Then, too, in these cases, and in some others, when a child 
comes to treat a parent with disregard, and especially with 
unkindness, there is a spontaneous feeling of Public 
disapprobation, and often of indignation and sentiment, 
abhorrence, which does not exist in view of the estrange- 
ment of other friends. 

Fraternal Affection, or that felt by children of the same 
parents, is not so obviously a natural or instinctive senti- 
ment as the affections previously described. Some, indeed, 
have maintained the opinion that this affection some regard 
is wholly the result of cultivation, and that it JJ. "J"^ 1 
arises solely from the fact that the individuals tion. 
concerned are thrown constantly together. But this does 
not account satisfactorily for all the phenomena presented. 
Others besides brothers and sisters are thrown together for 



216 PSYCHOLOGY. 

long periods. It is true that in such cases warm friend- 
ships and close attachments are formed, but these are 
comparatively few. It is true also, that among brothers 
and sisters, there are exceptional instances of alienation 
and unfraternal manifestations. But it will be found that 
the great majority of those who are not connected by fra- 
ternal ties, and are yet thrown into one another's society, 
do not develop the affectionate regard for each other that 
exists almost universally among children of the same 
family. 

FRIENDSHIP. 

This is a sentiment which exists between persons brought 
into one another's society, who are congenial and mutually 
- . .. attractive. The reasons for the attachments are 

Description 

ofthisaffec- very numerous, and sometimes quite unaccount- 
able. The attachment varies from a very mod- 
erate regard to an intense devotion. We have some very 
remarkable instances of these friendships in history, as well 
as from observation, and that man is poor indeed who is 
not himself a party to more or less of these happy relation- 
ships. 

GRATITUDE, OR LOVE OP BENEFACTORS. 

Gratitude is sometimes reckoned as a simple emotion 
awakened by a deed of personal kindness. But it is cer- 
Somethi tainly something more than mere gladness or 

more than a joy, however great, at the acquisition of a de- 
sired object. There is obviously an additional 
feeling, which is of the nature of a particular kind of regard 
for some person who is the intentional cause of this grati- 
fication, and of thankfulness to him. It is a little more 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 217 

difficult to place it among the affections than to distinguish 
it from the emotions. Still, it is undoubtedly the case that 
kindness shown to a person does usually awaken Kindness 
affection, sometimes of the most ardent kind, awakens 
I would not say that this added element of affec- 
tion is what constitutes gratitude, as distinguished from 
simple thankfulness, because the affection often exists, and 
perhaps grows stronger even after the occasion of the 
gratitude may be forgotten. Still, there is little doubt 
that some affection is implied in all genuine gratitude. 



PATRIOTISM, OR LOVE OF COUNTRY. 

This is a marked characteristic of most men. An attach- 
ment partly to the soil on which we were brought up ; to 
the natural features of the region in which we Various eIe . 
have lived, perhaps from childhood ; to the habits ments com- 
and customs of the people ; to the government, duce this 
local and general; to the institutions, laws, affectlon - 
usages, and history of the national community, — is apt to 
beget a deep and fervid feeling, which is peculiar, and which 
frequently becomes a powerful motive of action. Especially 
is this the case if the country has been through great trials, 
and has come out of them successfully and triumphantly, 
more especially if it is a country under a popu- More con _ 
lar form of government. Then each one real- spicuous 

,, . j. . , , . . ., , underapopu- 

izes something 01 a proprietorship in it, and larformof 
rejoices in its prosperity as in something of his & overnment - 
own. Still, I think there is something more and higher 
than this in patriotism, else we would not have so many 
brave men enthusiastically following their national flag 
into obvious perils, and at such great and sometimes ap- 



218 PSYCHOLOGY. 

palling sacrifices. There is a kind of national life spring- 
ing 1 out of the constituted nature of human 

National life. & . . 

society, oi which every citizen is a partaker, — a 

national consciousness and national sensibility, which are 

essential elements in patriotism, and to which it owes its 

natural and spontaneous character. 



THE LOVE FOR HUMANITY, OR PHILANTHROPY. 

This affection is unquestionably natural to the constitu- 
tion of man, notwithstanding the fact that it is often con- 
cealed by other interests, as also the fact that opportunities 
for its manifestation are less frequent or less prominent 
A positive than in the case of most of the other affections, 
affection. Still, that it is a positive affection, and belongs 
to man as man, is evident from a variety of considerations. 

Let a man be in any considerable peril, or be swept into 

a current and clinging to some frail support, liable to give 

way at any moment, if the suspense is protracted 

how deep and universal is the interest excited 

in the community! A large proportion of the population, 

perhaps every person able to do so, will hurry to the scene 

of danger, and manifest the most intense interest. This is 

„ _ not exceptional, but in all ages and nations, 

tionainor both civilized and barbarian, evinces itself in 

ten thousand ways. Let a great fire, or a flood, 

or an earthquake, or other devastating calamity, come to a 

community, causing wide-spread distress, and making great 

numbers homeless, how quickly the benevolent impulse is 

felt in remote communities, and among total strangers ! 

It is indicated, again, by the disposition to build and 
endow charitable institutions, such as asylums for orphans, 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 219 

deaf-mutes, the blind, and other unfortunates ; hospitals for 
the sick, and dispensaries ; as well as to set on Benevolent 
foot enterprises and associations designed to anTassocia- 
furnish facilities for indigent young people who tions. 
are seeking education and qualification for useful lives. 

It is still further evident in the devotion of good men 
and women of talent, and sometimes of genius, to the refor- 
mation of abuses through which so many are destroyed, and 
wretchedness is so greatly multiplied. Howard, Noted phiian- 
Wilberforce, Clarkson, Gurney, Elizabeth Fry, thropists. 
Florence Nightingale, Wendell Phillips, and other such 
persons come instantly to our minds when we speak of 
such things. 

We have the testimony of travellers in all parts of the 

world, who have found even in barbarous tribes, and among 

the most uncultured communities, that under „ 

Even mani- 

the most forbidding circumstances there were fest in bar- 

•. -i ,1 • o t j. i .. barous tribes, 

always some m whom this feeling of humanity 

was a living force. Doubtless more of this exists, even in 

the most degraded communities, than comes to the surface, 

as it is liable to be repressed by fear or jealousy, or perhaps 

overborne by some passion or propensity inconsistent with 

its expression. 

SYMPATHY. 

Sympathy is the feeling that rises on contemplating the 

pains and sorrows and the unhappiness of others, as also 

their ioys and prosperities. Tins, also, is bv 

■,-,., ,--,,., Its nature, 

some regarded as a simple emotion, but it seems 

to me to be so closely related to our love of our fellow-men 

in more immediate or more remote relations, that it properly 

holds a place among the affections. 



220 PSYCHOLOGY. 

It is scarcely possible for a healthy mind, and especially 
one morally well developed, not to be affected by the emo- 
Affected by ti° ns °f others ; and to be so affected is to have 
the emotions similar emotions. That this should be the case 
is involved in the very constitution of our na- 
ture. Even the brutes give indications of these feelings, 
at least in a rudimentary way. It is not an in- 
frequent occurrence for them to give evidence 
of being affected by the happiness or misery of their fellow- 
brutes. 

It is more common to use this term with reference to the 
feeling awakened by the discomforts and adversities of 
Awakened b otners i than to those called into activity by their 
the adversi- enjoyments and delights. It is true, we do enter 

ties of others. ,-, . , .-, ^ P <. ,.-,■, 

personally into the welfare of our fellow-men ; 

still there is a marked difference, such as I have suggested. 
There are several reasons for this. One is that sympathy 
is more useful and more needful in calamity and disaster 
than in prosperity. For this reason it becomes more em- 
phasized, and doubtless more noticeable. It is also true 
that joy is more natural than sorrow, and therefore more 
commonly the heritage of all. For this reason, when the 
latter comes it is more observable and more exciting. 

Sympathy must be distinguished from certain other terms 
closely affiliated with it. The difference between it and 
Not commis- Commiseration is that the use of the latter is con- 
eration. fined to cases of suffering, — it does not express 

a fellow-feeling of enjoyment or pleasure. Compassion was 
Notcompas- originally and etymologically the exact Latin 
sion - equivalent of Sympathy, but in the English use 

of the two words the meaning has palpably diverged. 
Compassion, as now used, means the disposition we have 



THE BENEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 221 

towards the unfortunate, when it is in our power to aid 
them. Sympathy, as we have seen, may exist where there 
is no possibility of giving any aid. Pity, like 
commiseration, is an emotion excited by the suf- 
fering of others, but differs from sympathy in that it is not 
excited by the happiness of our fellows. It Difference be- 
probably differs from commiseration in the fact andTommis- 
that the person feeling the pity is usually in a eration. 
superior position to the object of it. I do not mean by 
this, as some seem to imply, that there is a feeling of 
superiority necessarily, much less of contempt, though 
possibly these two feelings get mixed in the mind some- 
times ; but that the one who exercises the pity is in a more 
favored and less painful position than the other. 



222 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE MALEVOLENT OR MALEFICENT AFFECTIONS. 

As previously intimated, while Dr. Hopkins's objection 
to the classification of the Affections as Benevolent or Ma- 
levolent has much force, the substitute which he proposes 
is open to almost equally grave objections. It is for this 
reason, as well as for the reason that no one is likely to be 
misled, that I adhere to the old nomenclature. 

It has already been shown that the Affections are the 
most complex of the sensibilities. They differ from the 
Emotions in having an element of desire ; they differ from 
the Desires and Appetites in the fact that both the latter 
Have regard are self-regarding, while the Affections are altru- 
Sa^our- istic ' or regardful of others. This is true of 
selves. both the Benevolent and the Malevolent Affec- 

tions. They seek to affect others than the subject. The 
former aim at some good for others, the latter at some ill. 
The radical element in the one is love ; in the other, hate. 
It is true that in very many instances neither the one nor 
the other of these elements is very pronounced ; still, in 
some form, rudimentary or otherwise, it is present. 

The Malevolent Affections have many forms. I mention 
first that of Anger. This involves an unpleasant feeling on 
Nature of the part of the subject, which is accompanied by 
angsr. a c i es jj. e to affect disagreeably the person who is 

presumed to have caused the unpleasantness. 



THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 223 

Anger is the basis of all the so-called Malevolent Affec- 
tions. Those known by other designations are either 
modifications of this, or in some way involve Basisofall 
it. It is partly instinctive and partly voluntary, malevolent 
The former characteristic applies to those sud- 
den excitations of passion which arise on certain occa- 
sions, without thought on the part of the person Instinctive 
affected. The latter refers to the feeling that is and voiun- 

tary- 

prolonged, and, perhaps, intensified or otherwise 
modified by reflection and consideration. Sometimes the 
feeling excited by some action or other is greatly dimin- 
ished or wholly nullified when the case is examined, and 
full account is taken of the circumstances and conditions. 
On the other hand, an act which at first produces no feel- 
ing, or only a slight one, and which is scarcely noticeable, 
on being revolved in the mind, and considered in certain 
of its relations, becomes a serious offence, and produces a 
corresponding increase of unpleasant feeling. Frequently 
the additional and aggravating elements are from Affected by 
the world of imagination, instead of being found imagination, 
matter of fact, and are fruitful sources of misunder- 
standing and states of mind for which there is no justi- 
fication. 

Of instances of purely instinctive anger we have the fact 
that little children who get hurt by running against some 
obstacle, are disposed to wreak their petty vengeance on 
the insensate object. The savage breaks and tramples 
upon the arrow that wounds him. Even in highly civil- 
ized and cultivated persons this feeling is not always ab- 
sent. I have seen a refined lady, of great prominence in 
society, take up a pen to write a hurried note, and, finding 
it good for nothing, dash it from her with great vigor, as 



224 PSYCHOLOGY. 

if in resentment at its failure to do its duty. For the most 
Usuali - part, however, in persons of any considerable 



discipline and education, this passion is under 
cultivated control. If any fail to govern themselves in this 
persons. respect, as in many others, a reasonable public 

sentiment regards it as a sign of weakness and culpability. 
By some it has been denied that this feeling properly 
belongs to our constitution. It has been thought to im- 
s osedby peach the wisdom and righteousness of the 
some to be Creator to suppose that He should implant in 

inconsistent , , i> -, t • i • t i , 

with our con- us an element ol character which implies hate, 
stitution. jj e commands all men to love one another, and 
therefore it would be inconsistent for Him to put a prin- 
ciple the very opposite of this into our nature. 

But we are to remember, in the first place, that we are 
now looking at the phenomena of the human soul as they 
We are to manifest themselves; that is, as they are, not 
phmomenaof necessarily as they should be. Certainly this is 
the soul as one f these manifestations, and is as nearly 

they are, not . ^ 

as they universal as any which exposes itself to our ob- 

shouidbe. servation. If it be a part of our constitution, 
as it now is, we may reasonably conclude that either the 
Creator placed it there for some wise purpose, or that our 
nature has been in some way perverted so that it no longer 
expresses the design of the Creator. 

Then, again, we see, if we look at the matter carefully, 
that there are a proper place and use for such a principle ; 
not, probably, in its intense and perverted manifestations, 
but in its essential and purely natural action. As has been 
instinctive implied, instinctive resentment has no moral 
n^morai 11 * character. It acts before reason and judgment 
character. have opportunity to furnish any basis for moral 



THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 225 

conduct, and without their direction. It seems to have 
been designed to protect persons in case of sudden and un- 
foreseen attacks, where, if time were taken for deliberation 
and consideration of ways and means, action would be too 
late. 

Voluntary resentment can be justified only so far as 
it is essential to the welfare of the individual and the 
protection of society. That a person who in- Voluntary 
jures another should be made to pay some sort j^^ ent ' 
of a penalty, must be affirmed by the sense of justifiable, 
justice in every man's mind. This penalty, before society 
became developed and organized, must naturally be inflicted 
by the hand of the individual injured, or, if he were dead or 
disabled, by the nearest relative. This was the primitive 
method of the administration of justice, and prevailed far 
down the history even of organized society. Later came 
the universal usage among civilized peoples to surrender 
this individual function to society, which, in turn, under- 
took to guarantee the protection and defence of the indi- 
vidual. Still, there remains a proper and natural a proper and 
resentment towards a person committing a wan- ^uafre^ 1 
ton injury. This does not imply that it may sentment. 
not be modified by various other elements of character. A 
love for all men may easily quench the rising hatred which 
is involved in anger or resentment. A spirit of forgiveness 
towards the culprit comes into exercise on the penitence of 
the latter, often even when this is wanting. A repression 
of whatever savors of unkindness and vindictiveness will 
be found in every person of much moral cultivation. 
But the feeling of resentment is, at the bottom, a nat- 
ural and not unwholesome element of the human con- 
stitution. 



226 PSYCHOLOGY. 



MODIFICATIONS OF ANGER. 

As has been intimated, resentment or anger is the basis 
of all the so-called malevolent affections. There are many 
_. ff modifications of it, known by different names, 

kinds of re- Indignation is the feeling we have when a pal- 
pable and wanton wrong has been done, either 
to ourselves or to another. Wrath is anger intensified, and, 
as some would say, felt by a superior towards an inferior, 
though this is somewhat doubtful. Rage is a violent out- 
burst of anger, expressing itself in violent language or 
action. Fury is rage venting itself in a still wilder and 
more extravagant manner. Revenge, or Vindictiveness, is 
anger cherished, and seeking satisfaction in some evil 
done to its object in return for some evil experienced. 
Envy is resentment and ill-feeling experienced when others 
prove themselves superior to us, and who, as we are apt 
to think, are less worthy of this success than ourselves. 
It is usually regarded as a most unworthy disposition, and 
is universally reprobated. Jealousy is akin to envy, and 
yet is sufficiently distinct from it to have a designation 
of its own. It is a painful feeling, and one of the most 
powerful that can affect a person. Its chief peculiarity 
is, that it is directed towards an object devotedly loved, 
which, at the same time, becomes an object of suspicion 
and resentment. The strength and bitterness of the jeal- 
ousy are usually proportioned to the depth and intensity 
of the love bestowed. The suspicion or surmise that 
forms the occasion for the feeling is usually that the 
person loved is bestowing favor on another, and there- 
fore is withdrawing something from the subject. Under 
its influence one is incapable of judging correctly of the 






THE MALEVOLENT AFFECTIONS. 227 

conduct of the object concerned. Everything is inter- 
preted in the worst possible way, and some of the most 
innocent incidents are perverted into proofs of guilt. 

"Trifles light as air 
Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong 
As proofs of Holy Writ." 

In Shakespeare's drama of " Othello," we have a power- 
ful representation of this passion. 






DIVISION THIKD. 



THE WILL. 



CHAPTER I. 

GENERAL. CHARACTERISTICS OP THE WILL. 

Three divisions of the phenomena of the Mind have 
been kept in view from the first. They are the Intellect, 
by which we know, perceive, judge, and reason ; u e capituia- 
the Sensibilities, by which we enjoy and suffer ; tion - 
the Will, by which we choose and put forth efforts. It has 
been clearly shown that these are not divisions of the Soul 
into parts, one of which thinks and knows, another feels 
and desires, and another chooses and acts. It is the Mind 
simple and indivisible that is the subject of all these oper- 
ations. In each individual it is the Ego or Self that does 
any of them. I know, 7" am pleased or pained, J choose, — 
not some part or department of me. 

Again, it is to be noted that these different departments 
of the psychical phenomena are intimately related to each 
other. They stand in the order of conditioning The different 
and conditioned. Unless the Intellect furnishes JjJJJJJJJL 
intelligence, or is presumed to do so, there can related, 
be no feeling ; and without the previous affection, and con- 
sequent state of the sensibilities, there can be no occasion 
for choice or volition. 

WHAT IS THE WILL? 

Let us start with the already implied proposition that 
the Will is not an entity, but a power. It is the executive 



232 PSYCHOLOGY. 

power of the mind. It is defined by Dr. Hopkins as " that 
Not an en- constituent of man's being by which he is cap- 
tity.buta able of free action, knowing himself to be thus 

DOWGr 

capable.'" Says Dr. Reid, " Every man is con- 
scious of a power to determine, in things which he con- 
ceives to depend upon his determination. To 

Definitions. . , ? tttwt -rx 

this power we give the name ot Will. Dr. 
Whedon defines Will as "that power of the soul by 
which it intentionally originates an act or state of 
being;" or, more precisely, "Will is the power of the 
soul by which it is the conscious author of an intentional 
act." 

The Will, though not subject to coercion by any other 
power of the mind, or by any power or condition outside 
Acts with of the mind, nevertheless always acts with ref er- 
tiJother t0 ence to tnese otner P owers an d conditions. We 
powers. can see this better if we take a concrete case. 

A poor man comes to me. I am informed of his wants, and 
convinced that he is a proper object of charity. So far" my 
intellect alone acts, and my judgment decides as to the 
facts of the case. Further, my feelings are moved. I sin- 
cerely pity the man, and desire his relief. Here my sensi- 
bilities are engaged. I have at my disposal five dollars, 
which I know will supply his need and mitigate his suffer- 
ings. Here intelligence again becomes an element in the 
case. I desire to supply the man's wants with this money, 
but I have purposed to myself to purchase with that money 
a new book, which promises to be of great utility to me. 
I desire to use the money in this way. Here, again, the 
sensibilities are in activity, and with this peculiarity, that 
I have two opposing desires, both of which cannot be grati- 
fied. Let us suppose that I will find the greater pleasure 



CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. 233 

in buying the book. My mind at once inclines to that 
action, but at this point I become conscious of another 
feeling — the feeling that I ought to relieve this man's want. 
Here duty opposes itself to inclination. 

So far there has been no action of the will, on the main 
point. I begin to balance the incentives to action implied 
in the situation. My intellect is working again. It is 
possible for me to decide either way. I am clearly con- 
scious of this, and there would otherwise be no conflict. 
There is no power to coerce me. I may decide in favor of 
my own gratification. If I do this, I am certain, after it 
is done, that I might have done the opposite. But we will 
suppose that I decide to do what I ought to do, instead 
of what will merely please me. I determine to give the 
man the money. This is a real act of the will. T h e rea i act 
I have determined, or, as we say in common °f the will, 
parlance, I have "made up my mind." But the act is not 
yet complete. There must follow an effort to convey the 
money to the man. This is what some of our 
best writers call Volition, as distinguished from 
Choice, or Determination. Others make volition include 
the choice, and regard the former as the real act of the 
will. However they are to be named or regarded, here 
are certainly two distinct elements, or perhaps we may 
say, two distinct acts. The one follows from, and is con- 
sequent upon, the other. It is true the volition Consequent 
may not follow instantly. I might determine ^^nTt 
to do a certain deed to-morrow, or next week, follow, 
but when the time comes the conditions have been so 
changed as to make it expedient for me to change my 
determination. It seems to me there is an act of will in 
the choice or determination made. 



234 PSYCHOLOGY. 

As intimated, it would appear that an act of the will is 
incomplete unless there be, in addition to the choice, a 
Choice, as an putting forth of effort to carry it into execution. 
wiiMncom- This, where the determination has reference to 
piete. an immediate action, inevitably follows the de- 

cision, but if it be a choice or determination concern- 
ing a future action this effort ma}' be postponed, and 
may never be made It is to be observed here, further- 
more, that this effort must be distinguished from the 
physical action. This is no part of the volition. It 
is the movement solely in the mind with which we are here 
concerned. 

Dr. Hopkins regards the Will as having these two con- 
Two constitu- stituents, Choice and Volition; and holds that 
entsofwill. the quality of freedom inheres in the former, 
and not in the latter. 

We find, then, that the act of willing is connected with, 
and conditioned upon, several other acts of the mind, 
wild d There is first an intellectual operation. There 
ent on other must be intelligence of objects or acts between 
which to choose, or there can be no choice. 
There must also be a desire, or there can be no choice. It 
is impossible to conceive of a choice among a number of 
objects in none of which one felt any interest, and for none 
of which there was any desire. Then there is choice or 
decision, and finally the effort or volition. This last, we 
Volition not are to rem ember, is not the physical effort; it 
physical may stop short of that. It is the effort of the 
mind to carry out its choice. It usually results 
in the exertion of physical energy, but the mind, as it moves 
toward this end, may see, before it comes to the point to 
affect the physical instrument, that it would be useless. 



CHARACTERISTICS OF THE WILL. 235 

I may determine to go out of a room, but before I arrive 
at the door even, I may ascertain that it is so fastened that 
physical effort would be useless. I therefore abstain from 
such effort ; but, nevertheless, there was a complete act of 
will, including the volition. 



236 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER II. 

CHOICE AND MOTIVE. 

Desire, in its relation to the Will, constitutes what is 
called Motive. By some writers this is reckoned as a part 

, . _ of the willing, and by others it is regarded as 
tive ? Not a the cause of the action of the Will. Most of the 
cause^fthe recent writers on this subject deny both these 
willing. doctrines. But motive is so closely connected 

with the act of the mind in willing, that we need to say a 
few words about it. 

It is unquestionably true that the mind will not act in 
willing without motives. As has already been seen, it is 
an impossible to conceive of the mind as making a 
essential choice, where there is no desire for any of the 
objects or acts among which the choice is to be 
exercised. Hence we may regard the motive as a condi- 
A condition ^ on °^ ac ti° n - But a condition is not a cause. 
not a cause, a cause is that which produces an effect. A 
condition, though producing nothing, is that without 
which something could not be. That is, the consequent 
could not exist without it, but it could exist without the 
consequent. 

There may be several Conflicting Motives operating upon 
the mind at the same time. The child desires to eat his 
Conflicting ca ^ e now '■> ne a l so desires to keep the whole or 
motives. a p ar t f ft till to-morrow. Here are two con- 
flicting desires operating as motives. Only one of these 



CHOICE AND MOTIVE. 237 

can be gratified. They are both reasons why the one or 
the other action should be performed. But not only do dif- 
ferent motives for a choice between two actions or courses 
of action exist, both of the latter of which may be innocent, 
but there are classes of motives between which to choose. 
The most prominent of these classes are motives Alt .. 
of pleasure and motives of duty. A young girl of duty and 
desires to go to a party. Her mother is ill, and 
needs her help. Here is the motive of duty conflicting with 
that of pleasure. It is true that desire is an element in 
both. The girl desires to do her duty, and to help her 
mother ; she also desires to go to the party. It may be 
that the latter desire is the stronger. She may yield to 
either. There is nothing that will determine her choice 
except her own self, but she will be under the influence of 
both motives, and she may be more powerfully influenced 
by one than the other. Still, she is compelled by neither. 

There may also come in other motives, subsidiary to 
those already mentioned. Intelligence may present other 
facts and circumstances besides those previously subsidiary 
observed, and these may operate as influential motives - 
in the determination of the choice, but the main question 
will turn on the alternative of self -gratification on the one 
side, and duty or obligation on the other. 

In view of all these motives, and under their influence, 
the choice is made ; but it is never so made that it is felt 
afterward to have been a choice compelled by No choice 
circumstances, or caused by any extraneous compelled, 
power, or any force outside of the proper personality of 
the subject. 

The word Choice needs to be carefully considered, lest it 
mislead us. It is, by a certain class of writers, regarded as 



238 PSYCHOLOGY. 

synonymous with Preference, and the meaning here evolved 
easily glides into that of the prevalent desire. But Choice 
Choice not i s a stronger and more definite term than Prefer- 
preference. ence. The latter is largely a matter of the Judg- 
ment, the former is purely a matter of the Will. Again, the 
careless use of these words induces the impression that 
Determina- choice is, after all, only the effect of the strong- 
tion - est motive, instead of being entirely free. It 

would possibly be better if we used the word Determination 
as indicating a purpose formed. 

Of the other element in an act of the Will, namely, Voli- 
tion, we have already said what is sufficient for our present 
purpose. 



MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 239 



CHAPTER III. 

MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 

' In claiming the freedom of man, it should be observed 
at the outset that he is free only within certain Man free 
limits. We shall best apprehend the limitations °e r £J a ithin 
if we note the particulars in which man is not free, limits. 

In the first place, man's body is not free. This is subject 
to physical laws, like all other matter, and hence to the ne- 
cessary operation of physical forces. We can, it Not physi . 
is true, to a certain extent control our bodies, caiiyfree. 
but only under the limitation of these laws, and by care- 
fully forestalling their operations. 

Our intellects are not free, in the sense in which we are 
now using that word. They are also subject to conditions, 
and their actions are necessitated by these con- _ .. 

ditions. We cannot directly choose what we absolutely 

free 
shall know, nor even always upon what subject 

we shall think, nor at what conclusions we shall arrive. 

We are compelled to know some things, even entirely 

against our desire and choice. We are necessitated in 

many of our beliefs. When we open our eyes, or listen 

with our ears, the sensations produced or the perceptions 

taken in are not all subject to our will. If we PerceT)tion 

see a horse we cannot will to perceive an ele- subject to 

phant, and if we hear the bray of a donkey it 

will be of no avail for us to attempt to perceive the sound 



240 PSYCHOLOGY. 

of a flute. We cannot will the knowledge of a thing that 
does not exist. So of our associations. They 
must follow their laws ; and, while we can select 
out of those which present themselves certain thoughts 
on which we will meditate, we cannot directly determine 
which shall present themselves. Our reasoning 
must follow the laws of thought. In any gen- 
uine process of reasoning we are compelled to a particular 
conclusion, whether it be what we would choose or the 
very opposite. 

Our sensibilities also are under the law of necessity. In 

T , certain afflictions we cannot avoid a feeling 1 of 

Lawofneces- o 

sityinour sorrow any more than Ave can suspend ourselves 
in the air without a support. Nor can we pre- 
vent joy and gladness arising in our minds upon their 
proper occasions. 

The Will itself, or the mind in willing, is free only 
within a certain limited space. As between two contra- 
The will free Victory courses of conduct, we must choose ; we 
only within a are not free to choose neither. Furthermore, as 
space. Must we have already seen, freedom in willing does 
choose. no {. imply freedom in acting. The Will is only 

the determination to act, the forming of a purpose the 
Liberty of execution of which may be prevented by physi- 
libert "of ca ^ or °t ner causes over which the Will has no 
action. control. Again, the Will is not free from expos- 

ure to influences operating upon it. These are sometimes 
conflicting, therefore some of them must be resisted in 
order that the more reasonable or the more desirable may 
prevail. These influences do not control the mind in its 
action, but they demand effort and resistance, and hence 
have in them an element of necessity. 



MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 241 

But, small as is the sphere of the soul's freedom, such 
a sphere exists, and within it the soul is free in the most 
absolute sense conceivable. Its freedom cannot Freedom ab _ 
be invalidated. No power nor thing can act solute within 
there save the mind of the subject. Even God ' s sp er( 
himself — let it be reverently said — shuts himself out from 
any interference with it, by the very constitution he has 
given to man. Within this sphere man is sole master of 
himself and of his eternal destiny. Here he forms his 
character, whatever that may be, and by this product he 
must be judged, and from the judgment there is no appeal. 

The reasons for this opinion have been given, or implied 
in part. There are others, which we may consider while 
alluding to those previously mentioned. First, we must 
appeal to the conscious experience of every per- Testimony of 
son capable of understanding himself. This is conscious- 
the tribunal to which we must bring a certain 
very large class of questions for decision, principally those 
pertaining to the operations of the mind. The Inner-Sense, 
or, as it is popularly called, Consciousness, is the only means 
we have of knowing anything about these operations. I 
do not say that some persons, under peculiar conditions, 
may not take certain opinions for the deliverances of the 
Inner-Sense which are not so. But if this organ of cogni- 
tion fails us, we have no other, and if we cannot trust its 
decision we can trust nothing. For, even our perceptions, 
for the most part, depend upon what we know to be the state 
of our mind in sensation. Still, whatever might be the error 
of exceptional individuals, concerning the testimony of the 
Inner-Sense in isolated instances, the agreement of the great 
mass of intelligent men generally, and upon any one par- 
ticular subject, ought to settle it beyond reasonable doubt. 



242 PSYCHOLOGY. 

Now, it is unquestionably true that the great mass of 
men, in all ages and nations, and under all conditions, 
„ . , . have believed themselves to act freely. They 
liefinindivid- never for a moment doubt this when following 
their spontaneous and natural convictions. In 
innumerable instances, after an action, they are sure that 
they might have done differently from what they actually 
did. If it be a matter of obligation, they condemn or ap- 
prove of their conduct as it would not be possible to do if 
their action had been caused by forces or personalities out- 
side of themselves. No one thinks of blaming himself for 
being in a certain place if other persons have taken him by 
force and carried him there, nor does a man accuse himself 
of crime if another person has forcibly put the hand of the 
former upon the trigger of the pistol, the firing of which 
caused the death of some one. 

Closely connected with this is the approval or disapproval 
which we feel in view of the conduct of our fellow-men. 
Approval and No one is disposed to condemn a- man for an act 

of S th P e P a r ct V s al ° f Wllich he d0eS 110t think him g' ui %' and he 

of others. certainly does not regard a person guilty of an 
act which he could not help doing, or which he was actu- 
R onsibil- ally compelled by other forces or conditions to 
ity implies do. The very conception of responsibility in- 
volves that of freedom, and to hold one responsi- 
ble for an act concerning a deed in relation to which he 
had no real freedom of action, would be cruelly unjust. 

It is here that our judgments of men's conduct are some- 
what modified by the character and circumstances of the 
Ourjudg- actor. The great mass of the influences operating 
fled bycir dl " u P on nnn > an( ^ inclining his mind in one direc- 
cumstances. tion rather than another, affect our own decis- 



MAN AS A FREE AGENT. 243 

ions in the consideration of the case. We do not blame a 
child for the same act to the same extent that we blame 
a man. A semi-idiotic person receives lighter condemna- 
tion than the substantially sane man, while one totally- 
idiotic is not judged at all. It follows, then, that there 
are different degrees of approval; which further implies 
that the power of the Will varies at different times and in 
different persons, and that the forces influencing the Will 
are greater or less at different times. It is conceivable 
that these forces maybe so strong as to over- If . fl 
come the power of the Will. In that case there are control- 
is virtually no will, no freedom, and no respon- there is no 
sibility, and hence no judgment concerning the mlL 
subject, any more than in the case of a brute or of a tree. 

Another modification comes in here. The weakness of 
a mind in willing diminishes the severity of our condemna- 
tion only when this weakness comes from no weakness of 
fault of the person concerned. If it is the re- ^us™^ 8 
suit of a series of evil choices, by which he has the subject, 
demoralized himself, and then been rendered incompetent, 
we still hold him responsible, and condemn his evil choices, 
as well as all their results. So, on the other hand, when 
a man, by habitually willing the proper things, So of strength 
has come to a condition in which his will is ofwi11 - 
easily superior, and dominates his whole personality, hold- 
ing in subordination his lower powers, and then having 
liberty in its largest and most genuine sense, we give him 
credit for this, as well as for particular acts which are right. 



>44 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE WILL NOT A SUSCEPTIBILITY, BUT A POWER. 

It has already been stated that the Will is not an Entity, 
but a Power. It is to be remarked here, that, being a power^ 
Notasus- it is not a Susceptibility. Those who hold that 
ceptibiiity. ^i ie ac tion of the Will is determined by motives 
make it the latter instead of the former. Yet it seems to 
me that every person must be conscious that the Will is a 
positive power, and not a mere passive instrument. If it 
were true that the mind, in willing, is controlled by the 
strength of the motives operating upon it, it would follow, 
as Dr. Schuyler has shown, that in at least a considerable 
proportion of cases the action would not be in the direction 
in which either of the motives acts, but it would be a re- 
Effect of the su l tan t °f tne two. Thus if, out in the public 
composition square, I hear two men at different points call- 
ing me, if I have an equal desire to go to each 
of them, a combination of the impelling motives will carry 
me, not in the direction of one of them, but in a diagonal 
to some point half way between them. Suppose the motives 
are not equal ; still I should not be carried to either point 
to which I wish to go, but to some other point, nearer 
that of the stronger attraction. Only in the case where one 
of the motives was nil, should I be impelled to go directly to 
one of the points. This is a very mechanical illustration, 
but then the doctrine that the strongest motive causes the 



THE WILL A POWER. 245 

action of the mind in willing is a purely mechanical doc- 
trine, — an attempt to apply a physical law to spiritual 
things. It is a matter of the power of motive, as deter- 
mining the action of the mind in willing. I see no other 
way but that of two or more motives, each of which must 
be supposed to have some force which cannot be annihilated 
by that of the other. There are cases where the impulsions 
are in entirely opposite directions. In such cases the 
stronger motive will impel toward one object and away 
from the other, but whether it would ever cause the subject 
to reach the former is more than doubtful. This on the 
hypothesis that motives cause action. 

A motive, then, is never a cause of the mind's action in 
willing, but rather a reason why the mind thus acts, — a 
condition of its action in a particular way. There Motive the 
are those who deny that a motive is necessary, anTnotthe' 
even as a condition ; but this absence of motive cause- 
appears only in the case of two contradictory desires so 
exactly balancing each other as to practically 
annihilate the force of both. It is doubtful if, tives exactly 
in such a hypothetical case, the mind ever puts ^l^l^^ 
forth the power of choice ; and, even if it does, force of both 
the instances are so extremely rare that they are 
of no practical consequence, and even speculatively are 
hardly worthy of consideration. 

The difference between a cause and a condition has already 
been pointed out. The fact appears evident that the power 
of the Will is an uncaused cause, or a First Cause, The wm a 
not to the extent and in the infinite degree that first cause - 
God is a First Cause, but just as really as He is. It is a 
supernatural power, the only element in man's constitu- 
tion that makes him superior to nature, and able to sub- 



246 PSYCHOLOGY. 

ordinate it to his uses. Without it he becomes a part of 
nature, subject to its laws and forces, and compelled to 
A finit fir t drift on i Q ^ s current, whithersoever that may- 
cause just as move. As an animal, man is subject to these 
infinite first laws and forces. The appetites and passions 
cause. dominate him. The strongest has right of way, 

and he must yield to it, as do the other animals. But as man 
he is conscious of a power in him which makes him superior 
to nature, and enables him to control the forces which con- 
trol other animals and all other objects. When appetite 
„ h craves gratification, he is not only competent to 

master of his determine whether that gratification is whole- 
some and right, but also to refuse it indulgence. 
So of other cravings, as also of the passions. The fact 
that men sometimes do not assert their superiority only 
adds emphasis to the doctrine that they possess it, inas- 
much as they feel a sense of degradation when they have 
failed in its assertion, and submitted to these lower forces. 
Other men, too, contemn such surrender ; and both the 
sense of self-degradation and the contempt of others arise 
from the fact that all men recognize the existence of this 
power superior to nature, and that it is the part of every 
individual man to assert it. 



MORAL CHOICE. 247 



CHAPTER V. 

MORAL CHOICE. 






It has been implied all along that the mind, as a prelimi- 
nary to choice, in many instances deliberates, considers the 
facts and circumstances, the concomitants and p re ii m i na ry 
consequences, of an act or its alternatives, the deliberation, 
pleasures and pains of which it will be the antecedent, and 
that there is frequently a struggle in the mind sometimes a 
before a decision is reached and the Will acts, struggle. 
I say, this is true in many instances ; probably it is not so 
in all. Perhaps in a great majority of cases the decision 
is made as soon as the occasion is presented. often the de _ 
Those instances in which there is a struggle are cision imme- 
usually those in which the choice lies between without de- 
pleasure or self-interest on the one side, and llberatlon - 
duty on the other. There may be deliberation in other 
cases, and doubt as to what is most advisable, and some- 
times conflict of opposing interests, but these are more 
easily decided than the conflict between interest and duty. 
There is also a marked difference in the consequences of 
such decisions in the self-judgment of the subject. In the 
conflict between the different kinds of self-interest, the 
main question is, in which the real interest lies ; and when 
this is settled the Will for the most part accepts that decis- 
ion, and by its own act ratifies it at once. But it is not so 
always in the struggle between duty and self-interest. 
Sometimes it is long protracted. The mind inclines now 



248 PSYCHOLOGY. 

to the former, now to the latter. In the former case the 
struggle be- decision i s referred to as wise or unwise, pru- 
tweenduty dent or imprudent; it produces satisfaction or 
terest more regret, as the case may be ; but there is no re- 
protracted. morse necessarily. In the other case there is 
approval and self-complacency, or disapproval and condem- 
nation, — a sense of guilt and degradation. 

It is not intended to insist here that this distinction be- 
tween the different classes of motives, or between desires 
A tinge of and obligations, is always clear and obvious. 
seifSgaM- 11 There is a tin g e of obligation frequently in the 
ing desires, most self-regarding desires ; as, for instance, a 
man may hesitate as to whether he shall use a certain sum 
of money in his possession on a pleasure excursion, or shall 
with it purchase an additional piece of ground or some 
additional machinery, either of which will be of advantage 
to his business. Here, at first sight, it would appear that 
there is nothing in the question save the gratification of 
one of two desires, either of which is legitimate. But it 
may be that the question has a certain moral character also. 
Possibly the condition of the man's health demands the 
rest and recreation. There may be danger of his breaking 
down by continued application to the absorbing cares of 
his business. Duty to his family, as involved in the pres- 
ervation of his health, may come in as an element. Or, on 
the other hand, if the contemplated excursion is one of 
mere pleasure, with no ulterior object, and the investment 
of the money in his business is something very important, 
and, it may be, essential, and to spend the money for any- 
thing less important will be something like waste, — here 
the element of obligation would be present again, but in 
the other scale. Or it may easily be that both these alter- 



MORAL CHOICE. 249 

natives have a strong moral coloring, from the fact that, on 
the one side, health is imperilled, and it seems a duty to take 
care of that, and, on the other side, his business may suffer, 
and duty also requires him to guard that. So that what 
at first appeared a mere matter of preference between two 
self -regarding desires becomes a conflict of possible duties. 

But in general the distinction is clear enough for practi- 
cal purposes, and we may say that whenever there is an 
important conflict of motives it is usually between duty 
and inclination, or obligation and the desire for pleasure. 

This brings us again to the office of the Will in the 
construction of character. It will probably be denied by 
no one whose opinion is of much account, that office of the 
character is the possession above all others to be instruction 
desired and striven for by every man. It will of character. 
also be readily admitted that the order of precedence in 
the principles that are to govern man in the construction 
of his character is, first the right, then self-interest, and 
then appetite and passion. It does not require any long 
argument to show that to give appetite and pas- Appetite and 
sion supreme authority would neither conduce passion rank 
to man's greatest happiness on the whole, nor 
to the securing of the noblest and the perfect character. 
Nor need we spend much time in showing that Self . interest 
the supreme authority of individual self-interest subordinate 
would not produce this coveted effect. The ong 
assertion by every man of his individual interest as the 
foremost principle of his action would operate to the detri- 
ment of society, and, consequently, to the harm of all its 
members, since society is valuable to its members only in 
proportion as it approximates perfection. 

But if the universe and humanity are wisely constituted, 



250 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the great law of right must be paramount, and in obedience 
Law of right to it the interest of individuals must be more 
paramount, fully promoted than by any other possible ar- 
rangements, and the happiness of each will, in the long- 
run, be greater than by any other policy. 

It is here that we see how Will, as a governing purpose, 
is an interesting feature of our constitution, as well as of 

,„.„ great importance. It is thus that it exercises 

Will as a t> L 

governing its power as a creator oi character. At some 
purpose. ^ me - n ^ e arly history of every individual the 
question arises, Shall I make my own enjoyment, immedi- 
ate or remote, the predominating principle of my life, or 
shall the doing of right be the paramount purpose ? This 
may be settled by the formation of a general purpose to 
lead a strictly virtuous life, or it may take the purely 
religious form of always doing, at whatever sacrifice, all 
that God desires us to do. There may be a long struggle, 
indecision, vacillation, before this purpose is formed. It 
may be broken after it is formed, but in multitudes of 
cases it becomes the settled principle of action. This now 
fi l d * s ^ ne nna ^ anc ^ supreme end of this man's action, 
supreme end He has willed this, and all subsequent volitions 
are to be subsidiary to this. The Will becomes 
a fixed state of mind, — a perpetuated will, so to speak. 
Worthiness of moral character, the real worth of the soul, 
has come uppermost, and not undermost, in the plan of life, 
and he calls upon every impulse, and desire, and purpose, 
to adjust itself to this. 

He may, on the other hand, determine to make individual 
happiness or interest his chief good, excluding his own 
The opposite worthiness, or making it subordinate, and bend- 
interest. i n g q]\ hi s energies towards this end, and thus 



MORAL CHOICE. 251 

radically depraving himself, and rendering his disposition 
altogether bad. This prevailing purpose may not be in the 
mind all the time. Attention may be directed at times 
wholly to the subsidiary volitions and purposes, but the 
other is the constant aim. 



252 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VI. 

COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 

Liberty is sometimes distinguished from freedom, but 
the difference is not great enough to be of any value for 
our present purposes, and may as well be ignored. I wish, 
L .. . however, to speak of liberty in a slightly differ- 
modified ent sense from that in which it has been hitherto 
used in relation to the Will, and yet having ref- 
erence to substantially the same general signification. The 
inquiry which I now propose has to do with the perfect liberty 
of the individual, — in what it consists, and how attainable. 

It has already been remarked, that if a child were to 
attempt to explain its conception of liberty, it would very 
Th hid' likely say, It is having everything we want, and 
definition of nothing that we do not want. This is very com- 
mon and idiomatic language, but it is probably 
about as correct an expression of the real idea as could be 
conveyed in more philosophical terms. 

Now it is evident that no person with whom we ever 
come in contact possesses this large, full liberty. Every one 
No one in has something which he does not want, and which 
possession of } ie wou ld a good deal rather not have ; no one 



liberty. has all he wants. It is furthermore evident, that, 

with most of us, our wants and desires oppose and restrict 

_ , . one another. Thev are in such conflict that the 

Our desires > J 

restrict one gratification of one implies a denial of another. 

Something always must be sacrificed in order 






COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 253 

that something else may be enjoyed. In other words, our 

nature is not harmonious, and it is only in the harmonious 

operation of our powers and susceptibilities that perfect 

liberty is found. 

Is this perfect liberty attainable ? It may be rash to 

predicate even a possible perfection of man in his present 

state; but certainly perfect liberty for the indi- Isperfect 

vidual is conceivable, and towards the realization liberty 

c , , . . . . . , , attainable ? 

oi this conception every one is moving who has 

formed that governing purpose of which mention was made 

a few pages back. We all know some men and women 

who have made much progress in this direction. The 

simple fact is, the grand ethical object of every man who 

has set his proper end before him is to attain a perfect 

character, and a perfect character implies perfect liberty. 

It is not difficult to understand that men are, in „. . 

' we are under 

this world, under a system of law. By their a system of 
own conduct in part, and in part by hereditary mai-adjust- 
influences, they are in mal-adjustment to this mentt01t - 
system. It presses unequally upon them, it produces dis- 
cord, the desires of the soul run counter to each other, they 
oppose and conflict with each other, while in the ideal or 
perfect character they would be parallel, and thus harmoni- 
ous. The object of all ethical training is to remedy this 
evil condition of confused and conflicting interests, — to 
get the character adjusted to the laws. Whether any do 
perfectly attain to this in the present life, is not a question 
for discussion here ; but this we know, that many even 
here make great advancement in this direction. M f 

In proportion as they approximate it, they are in this direc- 
free in the only sense possible to any intelligent 
being in the universe. In other words, complete adjust- 



254 PSYCHOLOGY. 

merit to the moral law will subordinate every desire to this 
one purpose, and will bring all the before discordant desires 
into perfect harmony; and this is the perfect liberty which 
the soul craves. 

This is a state in which one does what one wants to do, 
and does nothing else, and has what one wants to have, 
and has nothing else, simply because he wants only what 
the Divine law requires, and he has that. His desires now 
Desires par- run P ara ^ e l w ith this law, and hence are parallel 
aiieiwith with each other. Conflict is impossible. This 
parallel with will help us to understand the wonderful mean- 
each other. - n g £ tne expression, "Liberty under Law." No 
other liberty is possible to beings constituted as we are. It 
is not by getting rid of the restraints of law that men are 
made free, but by adjusting themselves to law. 

This will help us to understand another thought which 
has sometimes wrought a little confusion. We believe 
Libert of ^at ^ nere are Dem g s in the universe who have 
glorified arrived at a state in which we regard it abso- 
lutely certain they will never do what is wrong. 
All who believe in a future life have no doubt that some, 
at least, of those who have lived here in the world will 
attain to this state. We frequently speak of this state as 
one in which those attaining to it can do no wrong. This, 
I take it, is not true nor consistent. If they cannot do 
wrong they are compelled to be virtuous, and this is not 
liberty ; it even seems to me to be not virtue. I see no 
reason why the loftiest and purest spirit in the universe 
cannot do wrong. It is certain that he never will, and that 
because he infinitely does not want to. He has become per- 
fectly adjusted to the great law of the universe, and he 
has no desires running counter to it. Hence there is no 



COMPLETE INDIVIDUAL LIBERTY. 255 

motive to violate it, no reason why he should do so, and 

men do not act without motives or reasons. 

This may be illustrated by a very simple analogy. For 

the most part, no man ever puts his hand into the fire. This 

is not because he cannot do so, but because he ,„ , 
. mi -i • . We do not 

does not want to. I he analogy is not quite put our hands 

perfect, but nearly enough so for our purpose. ^ because 

It is possible that there may be a sufficient rea- we cannot, 

son for a man to put his hand into the fire. It is we do not 

not possible that, to a soul such as we are sup- want t0 ' 

posing, there should be any reason for violating moral law. 



256 PSYCHOLOGY. 



CHAPTER VII. 

NECESSARY IDEAS PRODUCED BY THE COMBINED ACTION 
OF THE INTELLECT, SENSIBILITIES, AND WILL. 

As we saw in studying the Intellect by itself, there are 
certain necessary cognitions which are given us by the 
Reference to vei T ener gy °^ the Mind. So there were seen 
necessary to be certain other cognitions which necessarily 
viousi^con- arose, which are the product of the Mind, as In- 
sidered. tellect and Sensibilities combined. We are now 

to find that there are still other similar cognitions, which 
the Mind, as combined Intellect, Sensibilities, and Will, 
furnishes by its own power. I follow here the course so 
admirably marked out by Dr. Hopkins in his " Outline 
Study of Man." 

PERSONALITY. 

The first of these cognitions which we shall consider is 
Personality. As Being connects itself with all the cogni- 
tions of the mind as Intellect, and as Good underlies and is 
implied in all those products for which we are indebted to 

the combined Intellect and Sensibilities, so Per- 
Personality . , . , ,, 

closely re- sonality is present in, and gives character to, all 

th^othe? 1 those ideas to which the combination of the In- 
necessary tellect and the Sensibilities with the Will give 
ideas. 

rise. All the characteristics of the mental 
products of which we are now to take note are personal 
characteristics, and pertain to man simply as he is a person. 



NECESSARY IDEAS. 257 

Personality cannot be defined. It is simple, and there- 
fore cannot be analyzed. It may be bounded off from other 

cognitions, but generally each one must go to 

. . . 6 , J , .f , Indefinable. 

his own consciousness for an account of it, and 

we can do little more than direct attention to it, with this 
end in view. 

A Person, then, is distinguished from a Thing. Person- 
ality belongs to a being having intelligence, self-direction, 
responsibility, freedom of moral action, and con- p erson an( i 
sciousness. It belongs to a being knowing him- tnin £- 
self as the originator of certain movements from within 
himself, who also knows himself at one point of time as 
identical with himself at some other point, and that he is 
the same, self-persistent and inalienable from his substance. 

POWER OR CAUSE. 

I put these two notions together, not as being identical, 
but as being intimately connected, — so intimately, that it 
is hardly possible to think of one without a suggestion of 
the other. Cause, I think, always implies Poiver. cause implies 
It is not so certain that Power always implies P° wer - 
Cause. It seems to me that we may conceive of Power as 
existing while not operating as Cause, — quiescent, inac- 
tive power, power as capability. 

Dr. Hickok asserts, and with some reason, that Power is 
not phenomenon, but notion. It is clearly not a matter of 
perception. But I do not think, as he seems to p owe mot 
think, that it is a product of the Discursive Fac- phenomenon, 
ulties. It is rather a product of the Reason, or the Regula- 
tive Faculty. We know it as we do other cognitions of this 
class, on the occasions on which it presents itself as Cause. 
The knowledge of it springs up on every such occasion from 



258 PSYCHOLOGY. 

the very energy of our minds ; we cognize it because we 
cannot help doing so. It is a necessary idea. 

Probably our first cognition of it is always in our own 
personal exercise of it. We will a movement, we put forth 
its first cog- a volition, we realize that we are furnishing the 
psrsonai ex- beginning of a series of operations. We are 
erciseofit. powers, and we know ourselves to be such as 
certainly as we know anything whatever. 

A certain class of philosophers deny that causation im- 
plies power. They claim that it is simply another name for 
"Invariable Invariable Antecedency. If one event always pre- 
anteced- cedes another, they set it down, according to a 
general formula, that the former is the cause of 
the latter, and that there is no other condition but that of 
antecedent and consequent. But this fails to commend 
itself to the common-sense of man. Whether the average 
man can form any tolerable conception of cause or not, he 
is quite apt to make a clear distinction between it and a 
mere antecedent. No one ever thinks of regarding day as 
the cause of night, or night the cause of day, though they 
follow each other in invariable succession. In a country 
where buzzards and other birds of prey abound, a dead 
carcass will be the invariable antecedent of their gathering 
where it lies, but no one thinks that it compels them to 
Dr. Hickok's gather. As Dr. Hickok says, we may imagine 
illustration, £ W0 sets of wheels of two each. In one set the 
two are driven by separate powers, and yet so arranged 
that the cogs of the one wheel invariably match those of 
the other, each following each in perpetual succession. In 
the other set the construction is such that, one wheel being 
moved, its cogs drive the other. There is invariable suc- 
cession in each case. But any person of ordinary intelli- 



NECESSARY IDEAS. 259 

gence will see at once that in the former case one wheel is 
not the cause of motion of the other, while he will see that 
in the latter case one is the cause of the other's motion. 
There are many instances in which one event follows 
another where both are caused by a common force, but it 
would be nonsense to say that, because one invariably fol- 
lows the other, the latter is the cause of the former. 

It has been maintained by some authorities that the idea 
of cause has been gained from experience, or observation 
of habitual repetition. That this is not so, is Not ined 
evident from observing the knowledge of cause byexperi- 

ence. 

in very young children. If you roll a ball along 
the floor and knock down some toy ten-pins, the two-year- 
old child, without having witnessed any such The young 
phenomenon before, knows that the rolling of ^asweiTas 
the ball is the cause of the falling of the ten- an adult, 
pins, just as well as if he had seen it a thousand times. He 
wants you to do it again, sure that the same consequent 
will follow. That is, he is certain that the same cause, 
under the same conditions, will always produce the same 
effect. If you build up a house with little blocks, and 
then, with a dash of your hand, knock it down, making a 
racket, the child can hardly wait till you build it up again 
before he imitates the stroke of the hand, knowing very 
well it will produce the same effect. "A burnt child 
dreads the fire," and it usualty does not require more than 
one burn to make the dread effectual. He is more certain 
of the effect than he ever can be made by a hundred paren- 
tal cautions and instructions. 

It seems clear enough, then, that a Cause is an antecedent 
that has power to compel a consequent, and that An anteced . 
our notion of Cause originates in our own con- ent with 
sciousness of power to produce effects, this con- 



I 



260 PSYCHOLOGY. 

sciousness being occasioned by some putting forth of power 
The axiom D y our own will. The axiom connected with it 
implied. j S} as D r# Hopkins says, " Whatever begins to be 
must have a cause." 

FREEDOM. 

The doctrine on this subject has already been substan- 
tially set forth. The origin of the idea of Freedom remains 
Origin of the to be only briefly considered. It is a product of 
idea. ^ ie combined action of the Intellect, the Sensi- 

bilities, and the Will. It is a necessary idea, and, like all 
necessary ideas, it comes from the inherent energy of the 
mind whenever the occasion for it is presented. The occa- 
sion in this case is that of the exercise of the 

The occasion. „ . 

power of choice. " Let the opportunity or the 

necessity of choice between two different kinds of good be 
presented, and the idea of freedom at once emerges. Let, 
for instance, a man be required to choose between property 
and integrity, and he knows by necessity, and with a con- 
viction which nothing can strengthen and which nothing 
can shake, that he is free to choose either. The discussions 
about the freedom of the Will have been endless, but noth- 
ing has ever shaken the conviction of the race in regard to 
the elementary idea of freedom as involved in choice." * 

RIGHTS AND OBLIGATION. 

These are correlative, and consequently suggestive each 
of the other. When an individual has rights, every other 
Correlative individual is under obligation to respect those 
and mutually rights. Rights are closely connected with means 
of happiness or good. When a person has him- 
self produced what is a means of good to him, there arises 

1 Dr. Hopkins: Outline Study of Man. 



NECESSARY IDEAS. 261 

spontaneously in his mind, and in the mind of every other 
person cognizant of the facts, a conviction that he has a 
right to that product and the use of it. Here origin of the 
the idea of right emerges. It is an original and idea of right, 
necessary idea. Also, some other beings may be so related 
to us that we are responsible for their good, and they are 
dependent on us for direction and control. Here again the 
idea of right arises, as also the idea of obligation. 

Dr. Hopkins traces the conception of obligation to the 
opportunity of choice between a higher and a lower good, 
and insists that here is where this idea first The idea of 
arises. It would be impossible, he thinks, for obligation, 
two such objects of choice to be presented to the mind, 
and not be accompanied by the obligation to choose the 
higher. Here, too, as he teaches, is where the notion of 
moral right 1 emerges. He endeavors to show that an act 
is not right in itself, except as it implies the choice of a 
higher good than that involved in the alternative. This 
may or may not be true. I have no disposition to discuss 
the question here. But certainly we somehow, in the con- 
templation of actions or objects among which to choose, 
feel that to choose one of them is right, and to choose the 
other is not right, and we instantly are aware of the obli- 
gation to accept the right and reject the wrong. Here we 
come upon the idea of obligation, and we come upon it, as 
I think, nowhere else. 

Obligation, then, is from the Intellect and from the Sen- 
sibilities ; it also has relation to the Will. " As 0bliKation 
from the Intellect it is rational; as from the Sen- related to in- 
sibility it is emotive. It has in it, therefore, an sibiiiti'es, and 
element both of reason and of impulse, and so 



will. 



It is necessary to distinguish between right as the quality of an action, 
right as pertaining to the individual. 



262 PSYCHOLOGY. 

is capable of becoming, and does become, an authoritative 
impulse. But an authoritative impulse is law, and, so far 
An inward as we can see ' i s the 0iu y possible form in which 
law - there can so be a law within the constitution, 

that a man can be a law unto himself. As authoritative, 
law must be both promissory and minatory ; for anything 
claiming to be a law without a sanction, expressed or im- 
plied, would be no law. But if promissory and minatory, 
then of what ? It must be of some good on the one hand, 
or of evil on the other, that may be realized in the sensi 
bility." 1 

But we must apprehend the real nature of obligation. 
It is impulsive, not compulsive. We often use the term 
Obii ation obliged as if merely synonymous with necessi- 
not compul- toted. It is not so. A child is obliged — that 
is, under obligation — to obey his parents, as 
all men are also to obey God. This means merely that he 
ought to do so, but he is not necessitated or compelled to 
do so. It is possible to violate an obligation, and men often 
do this. It is true, as we have seen, that such a violation 
has its necessary penalty, as the fulfilment of the obligation 
has reward. These, however, operate as motives, and 
motives, as we have seen, are influential, but not compul- 
sory. 

MERIT AND DEMERIT. 

These are also original and necessary ideas, occurring to 

the mind only on certain occasions, and sure to arise then. 

Obligation furnishes the occasion, or, rather, the fulfilment 

or violation, of an obligation. There is not only 

a feeling of discomfort and degradation when 

1 Dr. Hopkins. 



NECESSARY IDEAS. 263 

we have violated an obligation, but there is an expectation 
of consequence, a sense that there is connected with the 
act some ill desert. In both these, there is an intellectual 
element, an idea ; and it is this idea that always arises by 
the mind's own energy on the occasion of fulfilling or 
violating an obligation, and in no other way. 

RESPONSIBILITY. 

We have already made some allusion to Responsibility, 
in discussing the subject of Freedom. Like the other terms 
which we have just considered, it indicates both a feeling 
and an idea. It thus has an element from the Intellect 
and an element from the Sensibility. It is also dependent 
on the Will, or rather upon the freedom of the D , 
mind in willing. For, as has been shown, no the will, as 
such thing as responsibility is thinkable unless 
the mind acts freely, and is the originator of its own choice 
or volition. The idea arises when the occasion Responsibii- 
of choice between two objects or actions presents j£^j£jj; 
itself, and a moral obligation is implied to choose freedom. 
one of them rather than the other. I ought to do this, says 
Conscience. I desire to do that, but ought not. The obli- 
gation does not constitute the responsibility, but Responsibii- 
it implies it. The obligation may be to one from^bhga- 
person, the responsibility to another ; or rather, tion. 
perhaps I should say, there is both obligation and responsi- 
bility to another. As, for instance, a parent sends a child 
to return a toy which he has borrowed from a playmate ; 
he is under obligation to the playmate, but responsible to 
the parent. 



264 PSYCHOLOGY. 



PUNISHMENT. 



This idea originates on the occasion of violated obligation, 
and is a necessary idea. We must discriminate between 
that which is the mere consequence of an action, and the 
Differs from punishment for a violation of obligation. If by 
consequence mistake I drink a cup of poison, which I 
thought to be prescribed medicine, and am made 
sick, this is a consequence. Perhaps we may call it a 
Penalty and penalty of a violated natural law, but not a pun- 
punishment, isliment. But if I steal, and am arrested, tried, 
and convicted, and sent to prison, the imprisonment is, it is 
true, a consequence of my act, but it is something more, — 
it is a punishment. The idea is different and peculiar. It 
is found nowhere else but on the occasion of an act freely 
committed, but in violation of an obligation, and for which 
the person committing it is, therefore, responsible, and to 
which, in my mind, the notion of demerit necessarily at- 
taches itself. There is the expectation of a consequence 
that is not merely natural and unpleasant, but which is 
distinctly punitive. 

It will be readily seen that all the foregoing ideas are 
impossible, except on the supposition that the subject is 
free in his willing, and thus has the power to give charac- 
ter to his own acts. 









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